Fractured
by Obsessed Pam
Summary: Tony is in trouble and Gibbs isn't sure whether he can or whether he even wants to help his Senior Field Agent.
1. Chapter 1

**FRACTURED**

_I'd hoped to get this chapter posted in January, but sadly real life interrupted, but it is here now. I can only promise one chapter a week (I know, it's the pits) as I still have to tweak the remainder of the chapters. Hope you like this angst-ridden story._

The impact struck him, hurtling him forward before the sound of a bullet being fired made it to his ears. And even knowing that it was going to hurt like hell when he hit the ground, he had time for one thought -

'Gibbs is going to kill me!'

- before mercifully losing consciousness.

OooOooO

"McGee, what are you doing?"

The young agent shot the Israeli a short, smug smile across the aisle of the bullpen before returning his attention to the task at hand on his computer.

"I'm just getting ready for when Tony gets back from his vacation. You know what he's like when he's been away."

Ziva closed her eyes in weary acknowledgement of just what was to descend on them - a senior field agent in full juvenile prank mode. It wouldn't, she thought darkly, be pretty. Maybe she too should take a stem out of McGee's book and be prepared.

Sitting at her desk, she scanned the area of Tony's desk and began to plan. Grinning slyly she had to admit that being a former Mossad agent had definite advantages...

Even with only half an eye on the grey-haired team leader, she picked up the vibes immediately as he listened on his cell phone and all thoughts of practical jokes were extinguished as she saw something on Gibbs' face that she had never seen before.

"He's what?"

Alarm wasn't a common emotion for the dark-haired officer, but that was the closest to what she was feeling now and she was already rising to her feet at the tone of her team leader. His expression was now as closed as ever other than a cold glint of anger and in her deepest thoughts she admitted that she was glad she hadn't been the cause of that look.

Both of his agents were looking at him now, ready to move out the instant he gave the go ahead to start their next assignment.

His next words froze them.

"DiNozzo's been shot!"

OooOooO

He recognised the shock on their faces; it was exactly the same as what he was hiding from them as he grabbed his badge and gun, but he didn't have time to offer any form of support. They would look after each other; he knew that.

He had a quest; to find out why his senior field agent - who had told him (_and wasn't he going to ream him out in front of the whole bullpen and its occupants if what he was feeling now was anything to go by?)_ he was going to be on a long weekend break with some frat buddies where they were to follow the age-long ritual of drinking themselves senseless whilst retelling, with even greater exaggeration, their halcyon days of bold conquest over the opposite sex - was in intensive care in Philly having been shot whilst on a joint operation with the police there.

Jenny was descending the steps from her office, her eyes glued to Gibbs as he shrugged into his jacket.

"You're booked on the 10.40 flight."

He nodded and hurried past, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He frowned. He had no time for small talk and she of all people should know that.

"Are you okay, Jethro?"

"Shouldn't I be asking DiNozzo that?" he demanded tersely, his blue eyes burning holes in her.

She nodded and stepped back, allowing him to leave. Looking at the remainder of Gibbs' team, she realised that a terrible void now existed in this part of the bullpen and wondered when, if ever, it would be filled.

OooOooO

"What do you mean he's been shot?"

McGee winced at the terror revealed in Abby's dark eyes.

"How was he shot? How does he manage to get shot when he's at a frat reunion? Is he okay? Tell me he's okay, McGee? Does he have to stay in hospital? Where was he shot? When can we see him? We can see him, can't we?"

As the questions rolled like unravelling string from her pierced tongue, her eyes grew steadily larger and the fear grew more pronounced as tears formed in them. Clutching her hippo for comfort, the farts grew more intense as her grip tightened and she bounced from one black booted foot to the other.

Placing his gentle hands on her shoulders, Tim met her gaze with quiet intensity.

"I know as much as you, but Gibbs is on it and we'll be the first to know when he gets there."

"You're sure?"

He wasn't, not when it concerned Gibbs, but it was the only thing he could give Abby at this moment. And he'd do anything to lessen her pain, no matter that he might have to pay the price later.

OooOooO

Entering the ICU, Gibbs' eyes scanned the area and ignoring most of the personnel there, his dark eyes settled instinctively on the one he considered to be the most senior person.

"DiNozzo. He's an NCIS agent, brought in with a gunshot wound in the early hours of this a.m," he stated tersely.

The doctor, who on second glance looked to be no older than a high-school graduate, stopped perusing the charts he held in one hand, and gave the older man his full attention.

"And you are?"

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NC---."

In his periphery he was aware of a policeman giving him careful scrutiny, but he hadn't time for that just yet. But he would get round to it.

"Sorry, only next of--."

"I'm listed as his next of kin. Where is he?"

OooOooO

It was the number of tubes that took the air out of his lungs, leaving him blinking as he attempted to bring his chaotic thoughts under control. He recognised the nasal cannula, heart monitor, pulse monitor and blood and saline drips, and snaking out from under the sheet that came to his waist was a catheter which he knew, without a doubt, would be the first source of complaint once his agent was conscious.

A nurse - and he was pleased to see she looked like she had been in the job a number of years - was doing some of the routine checks which took place every fifteen minutes without fail - he knew the routine when it came to ICU workings, but he didn't want the familiarity to include his team. She looked up and smiled automatically without once pausing in her check-up, all of her attention on the job in hand. Seemingly satisfied with the readings, she put away the blood pressure monitor and used the stethoscope for one final check. Then, after raising the bedrail, she gave the visitor a reassuring nod, and left him to take a seat by the bedside.

Suppressing the desire to touch Tony, the ex marine made do with carrying out a minute survey of every inch of him, from the sweat-slick hair plastered to his pale forehead, to the closed eyes with the dark circles beneath, down past the stubble covered sunken cheeks - how the hell could he have lost so much weight in such a short time? - to the heavily bandaged dressing on his right side. His gaze rested there longer as he frowned darkly at the bandage. He followed the line of his agent's naked body beneath the pristine cotton sheet, until he finally reached his covered toes.

And as he allowed reality to sink in, the sheer futility of his position stoked the fires of the fury that burned within so that his knuckles were ivory white from the tension he was applying to the bedrail.

And as he stared at his unconscious agent, he whispered desperately, "What the hell were you thinking, Tony? Just what the hell were you thinking?"

OooOooO

He knew enough by now to switch his cell off when he was in Tony's room, but when he needed a coffee and food he set it on silent vibration, so in the middle of the third night when lights were muted and his charge was still deeply unconscious, he was able to leave the cafeteria and walk out into the corridor of the unit and answer when Ducky made the long anticipated phone call.

After listening to the first few words, he interrupted softly, demanding impatiently, "All I want to know is, am I going to get the satisfaction of kicking his ass when he's released from here, Ducky?"

Receiving his answer, he snapped the cell shut and ignored the disapproving glare of a passing nurse as he returned to keep vigil over his young agent.

OooOooO

Sounds were his first sensation, an irritating beeping that disturbed and demanded that he awake when he knew, without really understanding why, that such an act was a really, really bad idea.

A piercing pain in his side made itself known in a distinctly unfriendly manner and he whimpered as it began to spike into something that forced him to move in the hope of evading any more of the bone-deep throbbing ache.

"B...Boss?" His voice, scratchy from the tubes that had earlier been forced down his throat when he'd been intubated, called out automatically for the one person he depended on more than anyone.

A different sound pushed through the fog of pain insisting to be heard, stilling his panicked struggles as he eventually recognised the soft Scottish inflection.

"Easy does it, young man. We don't want you reopening your wound, not when so many people have put in so much effort putting you back together."

He felt the cool breath of air as the single sheet covering him was lowered to his hips and he shivered; he would have liked to have pulled the sheet up to his shoulders, but he was too weak to do anything but try and force his leaden eyelids to open; they felt as if some enormous weight was tugging down, preventing him from doing the simplest of movements.

His breath hitched as a sharp spike of pain lanced through his side and he heard the monitor's beeping increase as if a conspirator with his discomfort.

"Hurts," he complained in a hoarse whisper to no one in particular.

He felt the soft touch of a warm hand on his shoulder, hushed words of comfort spoken and yet was cognisant enough to still want another's touch, no matter that it was intensely reassuring. He was unaware that medication was speeding down the tube attached to his hand, ensuring that very soon he would be pain free.

He wanted Gibbs, wanted him badly. He needed to tell him something; he knew that, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what, only that he needed him. Now.

Miserably, he felt a tear squeeze through his closed lids to trickle silently down the side of his head and disappear into his hair.

He fell asleep whispering his name on dry, parched lips.

----------

Part 2 to follow shortly


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

**(**3 days later**)**

From the moment Tony had regained consciousness and could open his eyes and keep them open, he had fixed Ducky with a look of such intensity that the M.E. was hard put to deny what he asked. And what he wanted was - well, he wasn't about to put words to that, so the second thing he sought was to go back to Washington. And though it meant another hospital, it was at least in a city he now considered to be home. At least for the moment.

He'd gotten used to the incessant beeping that surrounded him; almost considered it a friend. Even felt tempted to converse with it. But he didn't, mainly because one of the numerous nurses watching over him so diligently might overhear and report it. And that might put paid to his chances of being transferred this early. So when the machines were eventually switched off, the unaccustomed silence almost scared him and, ironically, kept him awake.

----------

On his last morning, he lay back indulging in the moment, knowing that this was the last hour he would lie in this bed. Looking down at himself, he was wryly grateful they'd allowed him a gown, though he would have much preferred pyjamas. At least one of his demands had been met, though the hated Foley catheter still remained. No amount of wheedling, pleading or charm worked when it came to that. It appeared that the bullet had skimmed his right kidney and they were taking no chances on infection. Close supervision was being kept on his body's functions and that meant that every millimetre of urine was monitored as if it were liquid gold.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew him out of his introspection and he smiled as he recognised them belonging to his favourite M.E. They were accompanied by another and for a heart stopping, hesitant moment he allowed himself to hope...until the two men rounded his door and his smile of anticipation stilled. He should, he thought wryly, have known better; he knew the sound of Gibbs' footsteps.

"Come to break me out, Ducky?"

The older man smiled whilst noticing the shadow of regret in the patient's eyes as they settled on his surgeon, a small, wiry man who had worked miracles and saved the critically wounded agent. Ducky had a pretty good idea what was the cause of the shadow, but he wasn't so sure about the treatment to cure it.

"Dr. Anders seems loath to release you Anthony."

And seeing the edgy patient about to thrust himself out of his bed, he raised his hands in appeasement, continuing, "But it seems he knows well the doctor to whose care he'll be transferring you in Washington, so, yes, it's all systems go."

----------

The journey by ambulance wasn't overly long, just under two hours in total, but by the time Tony had been settled into his new room, he was pale from exhaustion and clearly needed to sleep, but he'd heard the voices from the corridor, knew they were desperate to see him, and knew he needed to get this over with.

His new doctor had been in to check on him, two nurses had run various tests and appeared for the most part satisfied, and Ducky was now regarding him thoughtfully.

"This could wait until tomorrow, Anthony. You look quite worn out and I do believe a good night's--."

Tony smiled reassuringly, though it failed to reach his tired eyes.

"It's okay, Ducky. I want to see them as much as they do me. And anyway, I'll sleep better."

Both men knew this to be untrue, but neither would admit to it being a lie.

So calling on all his powers of persuasion, Ducky was able to arrange for Ziva, Abby and Tim to be allowed in together though, Ducky observed, the two nurses did hover on the periphery ensuring that their charge wasn't unduly stressed by all the excitement.

Only the bedrails prevented Abby from actually climbing on to the bed to lie with Tony, so she had to make do with latching on to his hand and holding it to her cheek through the rail.

He endured her gentle scolding, questioned his two team colleagues, knowing it was expected of him, on the work they were doing and answered every question on his health, all the while keenly aware that no one had raised the question of what had happened.

"So...how's Gibbs?"

It was only seconds, yet it felt like a deathly silence had fallen on the proceedings and it was telling that Abby offered no explanation of her own to add to those of Ziva.

"He is busy as always."

"Yea," Tim hurried to back up the Israeli, his eyes flickering on Tony and swerving away again as if afraid Tony would be able to see through his explanation. "The Director has got him overseeing some overseas op. that's taking up a lot of his time. He's in MTAC more than the bullpen these days."

Ziva's tight smile told him more than all her words, but she still tried.

"He asked me to convey his wishes for your hasty recovery."

Both Tony and McGee corrected her in unison, but no one smiled and relief was felt by all except Abby when Ducky called time on their visit.

"You can come tomorrow when Anthony's caught up on his rest. He will be feeling much more inclined to enjoy your company after a good night's sleep, isn't that so, dear boy?"

Everyone knew that wasn't true.

----------

"Are you aware Abby is boycotting your Caffpows, Jethro?"

Gibbs looked up from his work, sighing as he sat back in his chair and played with the pen in his hands. It was late and most of the NCIS staff had gone home long ago. The M.E. looked to be on a mission and truth be told, the former marine had been expecting this; he decided he might as well get it over and done with.

"She's made it known," he replied dryly, returning to perusing some information on a known drug dealer found dead, who it was thought had been working the naval base in DC.

"Aren't you concerned?"

"I've made sure McGee supplies her."

The older man's chin rose up in understanding as he stated, softly, "Ah, you always know how to look after your people."

The dig was all too evident and in the quiet of the bullpen Gibbs frowned as he speared the M.E. with a dark glare.

"Whatever it is you've come to say, spit it out, Ducky. You've never felt the need to beat around the bush before."

"I've never known you to ignore one of your own before."

"You might recall," and the team leader's tone had turned to frost, "that a certain agent chose to ignore not only his own team, but every protocol order in the book and went off alone."

"And he's suffered the consequences; is still suffering the consequences of his actions."

Gibbs' face seemed set in stone as he regarded his old friend.

"Ducky, DiNozzo knew what to expect when he made the choice to go it alone. He wasn't some rookie agent who didn't know better. He's a seasoned NCIS officer who opted for a certain course of action. Well, now he's going to have to face the consequences of that choice."

"He is fully aware of those consequences, Jethro. But it isn't the disciplinary session he's worried about."

"Isn't he?"

"You are making sure of that."

Gibbs blinked hard, his eyes flashing dangerously and the Scot knew he was pushing his luck in continuing this discussion.

"The closest person to a real friend Anthony had before coming here asked for his help. What was the poor boy to do?"

"Come to me."

"You don't have to convince me," the older man sighed softly, "but put yourself in Anthony's position." Seeing no hint of understanding, he continued, "Are you going to visit the poor boy?"

"If you recall, I've done my visiting."

"Yes, when he was unconscious and unaware of your presence. And the fact that you've forbidden us all to mention this fact makes your absence all the worse...He thinks you've abandoned him!"

Gibbs, face impassive, met Ducky's accusing glare.

"He say that?"

"He never mentions you when he's fully cognisant. He doesn't have to. You know as well as I that when he was delirious, yours was the name he called out. The nursing staff say that when he awakes from a nightmare--."

"I get the picture, Ducky!" the former marine snapped irritably.

But the older man would not be swayed into finishing before he'd said what needed to be spoken.

"Do you, Jethro? I wonder about that. It's as plain as daylight that you are on his mind a great deal of the time, though he won't admit as much. And if I hazarded a guess, I could probably say the same thing applies to you. However, let me not digress. He needs to be concentrating on getting better, but that's not happening. And I think you're the reason why."

Folding his arms, the Scot stated, "You two are so alike... Need I remind you of a certain incident further back in your illustrious career when you chose to 'go it alone'?"

Pushing to his feet, his blue eyes icy with disapproval, Gibbs snapped, "The hell we are!"

And snatching his jacket from the back of his chair, the ex-marine pushed past the M.E. and strode towards the elevator bringing the unwelcome conversation to an abrupt end.

At a loss for words, the older man shook his head disconsolately. What was supposed to have been a little pep talk had been an exercise in abject failure.

----------

The sanding was meant to be soothing, was meant to allow his mind and body to wind down after a trying day. The smooth, velvet warmth of the wood should have kept away the cold shiver of disquiet that rippled down his back. It didn't.

Gibbs clutched the sandpaper, applying his efforts with more force than was strictly necessary as he followed the grain of the timber with a swaying motion that he usually lost himself in. But this time his attention wandered, his eyes skimming his work bench, resting on the drawer which held the bottle. He scowled. The mood he was in he was likely to finish the bourbon and it was three quarters full. No, he wouldn't resort to that method.

He turned back to his sanding, running his hand over the stern of the boat, trying to regain some simple enjoyment from the smooth feel of the wood, trying to...the soft click of the door handle alerted him to the fact that he had a visitor. And for once he wasn't sure who it was going to be, though if he were a gambling man he'd put his money on Abby come to twist his ear.

He'd know soon enough; he knew each and every footstep of every member of his team since he became team leader. As he wondered whether or not he had the energy to deal with any other person's problems right now, his inner radar began to ring out its alarm and he stilled, his hearing acutely attuned now to the slight sounds above him - sounds that weren't quite the norm.

The throbbing pulse on his temple was testament to the turmoil of his feelings, but clamping down with a steely hold on his boiling temper, he worked at channelling the excess of energy into the sanding.

He continued the therapeutic movement, appearing deeply engrossed in the chore when his visitor descended the steps of the basement, yet he neither turned nor acknowledged the other's presence.

Tony stared morosely at Gibbs' back, well aware that the older man knew just who was behind him. As his wound began to make its own complaint, he cast a look longingly at the chair in the corner, but knew better than to use it. This whole situation sucked and he cursed himself out for thinking that coming here could make things any better.

Hah, his whole existence was screwed up; why the hell should he think that coming to Gibbs could possibly make things better? It was obvious that the man didn't want anything more to do with him. And who could blame him?

Not Tony.

As he stood awkwardly watching the other man at work, he felt hot, burning colour rush over his neck and face, tingeing the tips of his ears, yet still Gibbs remained silent.

Feeling the irritating tickle of a cough, he tried hard to suppress it, hunching forward whilst trying hard not to pull on his wound. Gibbs would think it was put on for sure and he had no intention of -- he coughed and pain spiked through him like a knife slicing into his innards. He sucked in air then held it until the stabbing began to abate. Holding a hand to his right side, he hunched over slightly more to relieve the tension, glad that the ex gunny had his back to him right now. He'd show him no weakness. None dammit!

But if he had any hope of not ending up on this basement floor he was going to have to initiate the conversation. Quick.

Running a hand over his weary face, he stammered softly, "I...I wanted you...to know first. I'm quitting - don't want you to take the buck for what I did."

He waited to see if Gibbs would react, but the sanding continued as if he weren't there, wasn't telling his superior that his world, the life he'd made for himself, had basically ended. He swallowed, not wanting to say the next words, but knowing they had to be said. "I know I let you down, Gibbs."

"You got permission to be out of hospital, DiNozzo?" Gibbs didn't allow a hint of concern to be heard as he studiously ignored the confession that had just been made.

Grimacing, Tony struggled to answer. Gibbs always had the uncanny ability to wrong foot him. "Er...I looked for the doc, but he...er...wasn't available, so I--"

"Just get your ass back there now."

The mask Tony wore so well cracked with the heaviness of his heartache, but as he shuffled round, he looked at the stairs he had to ascend and his heart plummeted knowing the pain he would have to go through to get back up them. Sucking in a sharp breath, he locked his jaw in grim determination as he hastily swiped a hand over his face, anxious to obliterate any proof of weakness he felt stinging his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Guess I'll be going - lots to do and oh so little time."

Gibbs stood immobile as he listened to the slow, laboured movements of his senior field agent make the painful journey back the way he'd come. Only when he heard his front door open and close did he move, staring down at the blood on his right hand where he had held the sandpaper so tightly that it had pierced his skin causing tiny drops of blood to blossom on his palm. He stared at it a moment, unaware the same was happening to his agent - only in more copious amounts.

----------

Outside in the chill night air, Tony groaned wondering if things could get any worse as he realised the cab that had brought him here had gone.

Crap. His side was burning viciously and without looking under his shirt he was pretty sure his wound had reopened. Double crap. As he looked down the street and assessed the possibility of another cab coming his way, he felt his vision begin to blur. When his legs buckled yet again he didn't feel his body hit the ground.

----------

_Part 3 to follow_


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

**Warning: Language**

Gibbs stood staring into space, oblivious to anything around him other than the burning need to beat the crap out of something - preferably one obstinate, insubordinate s.o.b. smartass agent who had the temerity to come to his place and try to resign. **_Resign?_** If DiNozzo thought he could simply get out of this sorry mess he had got himself into by resigning, he damn well had another thing coming!

Right now he needed a drink - a large one, or two or five.

Rubbing a hand through his iron-grey hair, he couldn't help visualising every expression that had crossed his agent's - scrub that - ex-agent's face even though he'd never once looked at Tony.

Putting aside the sandpaper, he scowled at the stinging cuts on his hand, but it wasn't until he was reaching for the bottle of bourbon that his eyes tracked to the blood on the basement floor. He frowned, just for a second confused, as he wondered how the hell his blood had managed to jump two yards - until it hit. It wasn't his blood.

----------

He hurt. He hurt so damned much he wanted to curl up in a ball and lose himself in oblivion. He felt the desperate need to cry, to bawl like a baby, but DiNozzos didn't cry; at least that's what his father had told him the day his mother had died and found him lying on her bed, weeping bitter tears. He'd never cried since that day, even when Kate had been killed, but now the devastating loss of something he held most dear overwhelmed his defences and he felt the burning sting behind his eyes.

But something or someone was turning him, smacking his face so that it smarted, and demanding what he didn't want. He hurt and it wasn't only physical. There was a hole in his side, but there was an even bigger one, an invisible one, deep within him.

He groaned softly as hands turned him one way and then the other, his feeble attempt to deny this brushed aside as a hand held his two wrists preventing any further form of resistance.

He heard his own name from a far distance and frowned, then as the voice registered he tried to move, to struggle and get away, uncaring now of the deep throbbing ache, so desperate was he to escape.

"Hey! Damn it, DiNozzo. I'm trying to stop the bleeding." But as Gibbs' words appeared to have no effect, he snapped harshly, "So help me, if you don't quieten down..." He didn't bother completing the sentence. It wasn't necessary as the man under his hands fell still.

Feeling cold, blue assessing eyes on him, Tony sucked in his breath, unable to bear the look of disappointment that met him.

"Can you get to your feet? I daren't leave you on this floor, you'll more than likely come down with pneumonia!" And receiving no answer Gibbs shook the wounded man, snapping, "DiNozzo!"

" 'm 'kay," he slurred slowly.

Another restrained shake was followed by another sharp question. "Answer the damned question, DiNozzo!"

Tony blinked in confusion, willing his head to stop spinning. But the words forced him to focus.

"C-n do it."

Gibbs nodded.

"Good, 'cause I sure as hell am not carrying your sorry ass back inside."

Helping him to sit up, the ex marine steadied his charge, ensuring he wasn't going to keel over before he'd even made it to his feet.

"Help me out here, DiNozzo - and don't you dare pass out."

Jerking his head up, Tony tried to focus on the face of his team leader, answering automatically, "DiNozzo's don't pass out."

Snorting his disdain, Gibbs snapped, "Shut the hell up and concentrate on standing!"

Biting his cheek, Tony felt himself hauled up and groaned as the pain spiked. Almost instantly he felt his knees buckle unco-operatively, but an iron hold on his bicep and under his shoulders ensured he stayed up even though gravity was demanding the opposite.

And even as sick as he was, he could feel Gibbs breathing in deeply as he fought to keep him on his feet.

"It's fourteen steps, DiNozzo and on my call we're going to walk them. At the end is a nice, soft bed and you can rest then, do you hear me? Not before...You with me, Tony?"

The question was barked out and even though Tony longed to simply lie down and pass out where he was, there was no option but to obey.

It was, he was absolutely sure, the longest, hardest, f-cking fourteen steps he'd ever made and at the end he was too far gone to notice that he'd been lowered onto a sofa and not the promised bed.

----------

The call, to Gibbs' relief, was answered on the first ring, Ducky demanding uncharacteristically sharply, "Have you found him?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Jethro?" It was obvious from the M.E.'s tone that he hadn't expected Gibbs on the end of the phone. "I thought you were Dr. Agarwal. He's just phoned to say Anthony had gone missing and was in no fit state to be out of his bed. I presumed he was calling me back."

As Gibbs' eyes travelled over the unconscious form of his agent he had to agree.

"How is he, Jethro?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. He's managed to open his wound and bleed out. He's unconscious though he was lucid earlier."

"Very well. Keep him warm, raise his legs and keep pressure on that wound of his until someone gets to you. I estimate twenty minutes."

Gibbs didn't bother to acknowledge the call, closing the connection and then grabbing the throw from the back of the sofa and wrapping it with infinite care around the wounded man, careful to retain pressure on the wound in his side.

Minutes later, dazed green eyes only half open revealed surprise as Tony looked around.

"Give...give me a minute, Gibbs and I'll be out of your hair."

"The only place you're going is back to the hospital, DiNozzo."

Shaking his head, Tony muttered, "Not...going...back."

"Is that right?" The sarcasm was biting and Tony's chin lifted stubbornly.

"You...can't order me. 'm not on your...team. I quit, remember?"

Bending low so that his lips were almost brushing Tony's ear, the grey-haired agent hissed, "Not yet, you haven't and don't think for one minute I'll give you that satisfaction, DiNozzo. Until such time as I see fit to kick you out of the Agency, your sorry ass is mine!"

----------

Tony was barely aware of the arrival of the medics and all the attendant ministrations that followed. And once the pain meds had been administered into his system he was unaware of any of the work carried out on him. Nor was he aware of Gibbs as he was transported from house to ambulance, ambulance to E.R. and finally, E.R. to hospital room. The older man never leaving his side.

-----------

When next he came to his senses, the sterile smell alerted him as much as anything to the unwelcome fact that he was back in hospital. And when he turned his head and opened his eyes to the raised railings of his bed, he was made uncomfortably aware of another painful fact.

Groaning softly, he moved his hand and closed his eyes as his wrist felt the all encompassing embrace of handcuffs.

Even knowing the futility of his actions, he yanked his hand, rattling the bed rails with the force as a determined anger washed over him.

"Keep that up and you'll be wearing a cast before this day is out."

When he jerked this time it was pure reflex and he groaned softly as pain assailed him, but he hadn't realised anyone else was in the room.

"You do this?" he groaned, his tone flat.

Grieved blue eyes settled on him and he felt himself colour under the admonishing gaze.

"You should know better, young Anthony."

Tony's eyes tracked past the M.E., but no one else appeared and dropping his gaze to hide his bitter disappointment, he stared at the cuffs darkly.

"Jethro advised me to keep those on you for the duration of your stay here...but I think not."

And stepping up to the bedrail, Ducky produced a key and gently removed the manacles, watching as the patient massaged his wrist.

Drawing up a chair to the patient's bedside, Ducky stated firmly, "This has got to stop."

And giving him a lopsided grin, Tony shrugged dismissively, his eyes - always a barometer of his moods - revealing a bleakness that increased the doctor's concern.

"Couldn't agree more; it's kind of embarrassing finding myself cuffed - I just hope they aren't mine."

----------

(Five days later)

The bullpen was in partial darkness, with only the subdued night lighting on for those few who remained behind long after the mass of people had gone home. Gibbs' desk was one still alight as he worked at clearing a backlog of paperwork that the Director had been requesting.

When the shadow fell across his desk, Gibbs tried his hardest to ignore it, but Ducky had no intentions of allowing such action and simply leant over and closed the file that the ex-marine had been reading.

Never one to back down from any confrontation, Gibbs simply stared straight into the M.E.'s grey eyes and waited.

"Do I have to clip you round the ear, Jethro, to get some sense out of you? Or maybe I should just bang your two heads together." The idea obviously gave him some satisfaction because Ducky began to nod enthusiastically, then recalling something that made him frown, he went on, "You're like two peas in a pod, so alike it's as if he were your son."

Snorting in disdain, Gibbs retorted, "Damned good job he isn't or I'd be kicking his ass well and good."

Stifling a sigh of frustration, the older man said soberly, "Well, I hope you'll be able to contain your negative feelings for the time being."

And sensing something was awry, Gibbs was instantly on alert, canting his head and waiting.

"Our Anthony is being allowed out. Hospital is doing him no good; he's not eating, he's sleeping badly and going walk-a-bout when he should be resting."

Gibbs grouched, "I told you to use the cuffs."

Rolling his eyes, Ducky leaned in closer, enunciating crisply, "Listen to me, Jethro. The boy is struggling. The medical fraternity has done all it can, but Anthony isn't...he's changed. He's doing what you're doing to him - cutting us out of his life. The boy is hurting and you are the only one who can alleviate that pain...Here."

He reached out and slapped something into Gibbs' palm.

"Those are the keys to the most treasured possession I have after my Morgan - my lakeside cabin. I'm going to be bringing one very fragile agent to the cabin tomorrow at approximately 3pm." As the M.E. began to walk to the elevators, he said over his shoulder, "I expect you to be there and to stay the week, helping Anthony with his recuperation."

"Hey!"

Ducky neither faltered in his stride nor turned to acknowledge the heated curse that followed.

----------

_Part 4 to follow_


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

_Apologies for any confusion caused by failing to point out at the beginning of this story that this is set fairly early on if looking at a timeline of the series and after Kate's death._

**(Warning: language)**

The chill in the air hinted at rain and as the clouds scudded across the slate grey sky, the ME cast his eyes up to the heavens wondering if he would make it to the cabin with his charge before the skies opened. By his estimation, they were still a good twenty minutes away, but he took consolation from the scenery, for even on such a gloomy day, it was breathtaking with the snow covered mountains providing a dramatic backdrop to the road he now traversed.

He glanced at his passenger, frowning as he recalled how normally he could have expected to be entertained by the usually talkative agent who now sat huddled over in his seat. But not on this occasion.

Bartok music had accompanied their hour long drive, and other than a weary reply to his few questions concerning his comfort, Tony had remained silent and impassive throughout the journey, his head turned away for the most part so that Ducky was unable to read any expression on his face.

The M.E. decided to try again; he was never one for giving up too easily.

"Just a short while longer and then we'll be there; I believe the lakeside air will be an excellent tonic towards your recuperation, Anthony."

With no acknowledgement, Ducky gave a silent sigh and plunged on.

"Are you at all familiar with this area? I came here many years ago when I was visiting..."

His words trailed away as he realised his companion had purposely zoned out and was as unaware of his presence as he was of his words. He sighed softly and decided to change tack.

"You do know that talking usually helps?"

Perhaps it had been the tone he'd used, but the slight tensing alerted Ducky to the fact that his words had at last made an impression. And when Tony sighed, Ducky held his breath, waiting for something, anything that might give him the opening he needed to try and reach the young man.

"Did Gibbs tell you I've resigned?"

Ducky exhaled in silent frustration, only now realising he'd been holding his breath. "No, he did not and I can't believe he would allow--."

"It's not his decision to make."

The words were spoken with so much weariness that the M.E. wanted to pull over, stop the car and have it out with his passenger. Wounded or not, the young agent was in need of a serious talking to. But he knew it would do no good. Someone else needed to deal with this particular problem and in another fifteen minutes or so he could start the process rolling, but he wasn't the one who had to finish it. So holding his tongue, he made do with shaking his head, his disappointment clear for the other man to see. But it appeared to make no difference to the tired passenger, who simply closed his eyes and attempted to nod off. When he had been a very young boy, Tony had seen it all before and such body language no longer had the power, as it once had, to cut him to the quick.

----------

The cabin's interior was simple yet welcoming; the pine floors and walls emanating warmth that welcomed any visitor. Tribal rugs from Turkey and Iran littered the floors adding bursts of colour which were pleasing to the eye. And though the cabin had heating, it still boasted a good fireplace which could make good use of the copious blocks of wood which were stacked neatly at the rear ready to be chopped into kindling.

Having been given the necessary instructions from Ducky, Gibbs had stowed his gear, put the heating on, made up the two beds and stocked the fridge by the time he heard the unmistakeable sound of the M.E.'s beloved Morgan pull up in front of the cabin. Grabbing his coffee, he went onto the deck and watched as the ME alighted from the car. It took much longer for his passenger to exit, and then he appeared to stumble, grabbing hold of the car door for support and wincing until he'd regained his balance. Gibbs stood completely still as he watched his senior field agent, who kept his head lowered as he walked side by side with Ducky.

"You just made it."

And true to his word, the inclement heavens took that very moment to open with a deluge that would have had the two arriving soaked to the skin no matter the short distance to cover, had it not been for Ducky reaching back into the rear of his car and quickly throwing a blanket over his charge. And equally armed with a huge golfing umbrella, the older man chivvied the suddenly less than eager young agent across the grass and up the stairs, paying no heed to the fact that Tony seemed in no haste to make it under cover.

It was clear to Gibbs that as his voice penetrated Tony's dazed thoughts, the ailing agent had faltered, his chin jerking up to reveal how stunned he was. He clearly did not want to continue on, pouring rain or not. But he'd had little choice in the matter when his bicep was gripped firmly and he was tugged carefully along, up the steps, past an unreadable Gibbs and into the cabin.

Whipping the damp blanket away, the M.E. ushered a shivering Tony to the comfortable leather sofa and encouraged him to sit down before he fell down. Yet all the while he was aware that Tony had refused to meet anyone's gaze as he sat glaring at the floor.

Wondering for a moment if he'd done the right thing, Ducky rubbed his hands together to rid the chill from them. "I think a nice cup of tea would do us all the world of good. Thank you for offering, Jethro."

Slowly turning his head to look at his friend, the grey-haired marine nodded dryly whilst making little attempt to conceal his irritation.

The only thing Ducky wasn't sure about was whether it was caused by his own rather hasty demand for a hot drink or whether from Tony's attitude. Either way, it didn't bode well for the coming proceedings so automatically he prepared to move into calming-stormy-atmosphere mode, except that Tony interrupted him.

Raising his head his blue eyes fixed on Gibbs as he asked softly, "What are you doing here?"

The question was flat and most definitely to Ducky's delicate ear not conducive in encouraging the kind of conversation he was clearly hoping for. Intervention was required.

"Actually, dear boy, I asked Jethro to join us. It appears that my presence is requisite for a particularly sensitive case and so, rather than allow you to miss the opportunity for some R and R in the country, I asked him to do the honours and keep you company."

The young agent's countenance was decidedly dropping towards the glacier-chill factor as Tony never broke eye contact with his own team leader.

"Well, that's really nice of you, Ducky, I...I appreciate your concern, but I think I'll pass on the country life experience for the time being; I'm more a town boy, so I'll--."

But Leroy Jethro Gibbs could rise to most challenges and Tony's sarcasm was met equally with a sharp retort thrown back as he interrupted with a biting, "Missing your frat buddies already, are you, DiNozzo?"

The dig struck home as Tony looked sharply away, the knuckles on his right hand turning white as he gripped the arm of the sofa.

Right on cue, Ducky interjected, "I hope you've got the water boiling hot, Jethro. It's the only way to make a perfect cup of tea. I'll have Earl Grey, if you please." And turning to Tony, he enquired, "And what can we tempt you with, Anthony?"

----------

They were, Mallard observed wryly, acting like two strangers in a railway carriage both equally put out by the other's presence and if the situation hadn't been so dismal he might have been tempted to recount a most amusing anecdote which took place many years earlier, when he had been a young intern back in Scotland and travelling to Inverness, but one look at Gibbs' closed features told the M.E. that now wasn't the time for such pleasantries.

Casting a practiced eye over his young charge, he watched him toy with the mug that Gibbs had thrust into his hands.

The young agent, his head hung low, seemed to be staring into the depths of his drink, searching for the mysteries of the universe; his body language conveying clearly how deeply unhappy he was.

Ducky coughed.

"So you found this place without difficulty, Jethro."

Gibbs met his gaze, unblinking. "Just as you said, Ducky; follow the highway, keep the mountains ahead of me all the way and I'd hit the town."

"I'm sorry you aren't seeing this place in the best of circumstances - the rain makes it all but impossible to see the glorious view I normally have, but no doubt in the next week the two of you will have plenty of opportunities to see why I chose this particular cabin as my escape to the country."

As Tony's desperate gaze fell on him, silently pleading for an escape route, Mallard had a brief moment of disquiet when he began to consider that this might not be the most prudent of arrangements, but stifling the doubt, he turned a reassuring smile on the younger man.

"I'll be phoning every day for a status report on your health and I expect to hear that you are following my orders to the letter, dear boy. Now, before I leave I'd like to do one last check, so if you would allow me to show you to your room..."

Showing no inclination to do as he'd been asked, Tony sat unresponsive. When Gibbs looked ready to intervene, a gentle shake of the M.E.'s head had the former marine's inclination to ream the indifferent attitude of his senior field agent brought under check. Instead, he stood up and made his way to the deck, leaving Ducky and the patient alone.

"Anthony, do you require my assistance?"

Eyes full of unhappiness met his own steadfast gaze, and Tony whispered, "I want to go back with you." He sounded like a lost, little boy and the elderly man had to steel his own resolve.

"This is for your own good, Anthony, believe me. You and Jethro are going to spend what you young ones refer to as 'quality time' together."

The irreverent snort that followed told the M.E. exactly what the younger man thought of that pronouncement, but Ducky would not be dissuaded from the course of action he had planned so carefully, and with an insistent tug on Tony's arm, he had the patient up and moving without further resistance.

----------

At his own insistence, Tony took care of his own dressing after his check-up, allowing Ducky to join Gibbs on the deck.

Looking out over the large lake, he gave a quiet sigh of satisfaction.

The grey columns of rain had softened to a fine drizzle, spreading a distant haze over the water and overhead, a group of birds winged, undecided whether to make a landing or not.

"This view never fails to raise my spirits, even in this sort of weather. I wish I could stay and keep you company."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow in full mocking mode.

"You're well out of it, Ducky. I doubt you'll want to be anywhere near when the fireworks go off."

"Are you so sure it will come to that?"

Gibbs gave him a solid stare, and sighing heavily, the medical man warned gently, "Now, now, Jethro. The poor boy doesn't need any more excitement in his life; he's supposed to be here to recuperate."

"Not going to get in the way of that as long as he does as he's told."

"Hmmmm." The medical practitioner looked suitably dubious. "I expect to find that young man in a better state than I'm leaving him. That means no bruises."

"Can't promise that."

"He's still sick."

"That wasn't my doing."

It was the M.E.'s turn to stare pointedly until Gibbs nodded his head resignedly.

Watching a lone bird wading in the reeds, he asked softly, "So how is he?"

Shrugging lightly, the M.E. answered carefully, "He assured me that he's fine, but I'm not sure I trust that assessment."

Snorting disdainfully, Gibbs scoffed, "Hell, Ducky I only trust him as far as I can see him!"

----------

Entering the main room in time to hear Gibbs' last cutting statement, a look of unutterable misery rippled over Tony's gaunt features. His whole body seemed to shrink into itself and he was forced to put his hand out to grab onto the wall so unsettled was he. And as Gibbs' assessment impacted his exhausted mind, he closed his eyes and willed himself to keep a grip, doing what he had become master of - banishing his weakness beneath a stiff mask of concealment, which over the years he'd learned to perfect.

----------

"If you would be so kind as to lock up and do all the necessaries when you leave, Jethro, I would greatly appreciate it."

Dr. Mallard stood, making his farewells, casting a concerned eye over the supine figure who seemed to have given up trying to persuade the doctor to let him return to the city. Ducky admitted to himself that he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Goodbye, Anthony. Please ensure you take all your medication. It's there to do an important job and you'll cope all the better if you allow it to assist you."

And as Gibbs walked him to his vehicle, Mallard continued to offer encouragement and advice on the care and nurturing of one delicate NCIS agent until the very last moment when he drove away.

That Gibbs couldn't decide whether to ignore or rip into his senior field agent hadn't gone down too well with the M.E., but as Gibbs pointed out so succinctly, Ducky wasn't the one doing the babysitting.

Returning to the cabin, Gibbs found Tony still lying on the sofa looking like he was about to face a firing squad. The ex gunny grimaced - he should be so lucky.

----------

He jerked at the proximity of the man he hadn't realised was there until a hand grazed his shoulder. Tony stared at the two tablets held almost under his nose in the open palm of Gibbs' hand, willing his pounding heart to slow down.

"Ducky's list indicates you need to take these meds now."

Automatically, without meeting the older man's gaze, Tony mumbled, "I'm fine."

Holding onto his patience with difficulty, Gibbs leaned in close, looming over the reclining man.

"Let's get one thing straight, DiNozzo. I give you your meds then you take them. End of story."

Green eyes flickered up making uncomfortable contact with ice blue eyes before skittering away. Begrudgingly, Tony accepted the tablets, dry swallowing them before chasing them down with the glass of water which accompanied them.

Then without any further conversation, he pushed himself up stiffly and padded barefoot to his bedroom, making sure he closed his door to the outside world in general and to one clearly pissed-off team leader in particular.

----------

The nights had always been the worst and since the episode in Philly, it had become a nightly occurrence for him to wake from the same nightmare replay, having to watch his former partner, Jimmy, being gunned down, helpless to do a thing. And no matter that the same scenario was played out in an endless loop night after nightmarish night, Tony found himself irretrievably trying to stop the inevitable until at the most terrifying moment he would jerk himself awake, still able to feel his hands covered in blood.

Now, lying in sweat soaked sheets, his heart hammered in his ears, drowning out the night sounds which he had fallen asleep to. Turning his head, he reached to switch on the small bedside lamp and raising his left hand, his watch showed it was almost four fifteen a.m. He sighed knowing there would be no more sleep for him.

Preparing himself for the pain he knew would strike, he pushed himself up, holding his side as if it might ease the stabbing pain. Blowing out through pursed lips, he sat on the edge of the bed, willing the sharp spikes to subside and allow him to concentrate on moving his stiffened muscles. On bare feet, he limped across the room like a man twice his age, opened the door and moved to the open plan kitchen. If he'd known where the alcohol was, he would have gone for that, but right now he had no energy for reaching up to open cupboard after cupboard, so made do with water. Then, before he knew what reason had prompted him, he was limping out the main door, and walking across the short, scratchy grass to stand at the edge of the black lake.

The stillness of the waters under the silent dark sky soothed his aching soul, and he welcomed the chill breeze that blew, cooling his burning body. And as his eyes searched the hushed shadows of the night, he felt drawn to the high peaks still in silhouette and slowly, he felt the overwhelming burden of his guilt weigh just that little lighter. He closed his tired eyes, willing that he be left alone by his bitter memories.

Breathing in the autumn air, he exhaled, surprised to see the wisp of his own breath. It really must be cold.

As the minutes ticked by, he gradually began to see more outlines revealed as if reluctantly by the shadows, and a slight greyness to the horizon heralded the start of a new day about to begin. He could see now that the lake was covered far out in a blurred mist. And for just a moment he wondered if he might lose himself in that mist, become something else, something that didn't hurt or bleed or feel like shit.

The rawness of Gibbs' words was still an open wound in his mind '_...I trust him only as far as I can see him.'_ And Tony was in no fit state to deal with that shocking admission now, if ever. He knew Gibbs was beyond furious with him for failing to inform him of the situation that had led him to go off on his own, knew he expected him to talk about the whole sorry mess of Philly, but he had absolutely no intention of doing that. He knew Gibbs would have got everything that he needed to know from the local PD; the DiNozzo version was totally unnecessary. He grimaced. He'd done what he had to do, even when it meant... His jaw stiffened in that stubborn way; his resolve firm.

It was just getting Gibbs to see it that way.

As if sensing something, he turned, half expecting the grey-haired agent to be standing there, but there was no sign of him and Tony shrugged beginning to wonder if he'd simply wanted the team leader's presence. He shook his head wryly at his foolishness. How many times had he longed for just that in the whole sorry mess of trying to take out the dealers without getting his friend implicated? He snorted at that insane idea. It had been a lost cause from the beginning; he knew that deep in his gut, but when Jimmy, his closest friend from his Academy days, had called him, desperate for help, he knew he couldn't ignore the close ties of Academy brotherhood. He'd phoned his frat buddies and cancelled with apologies and a vague promise to join them the next time they had such a get-together. And then he'd gone to help a friend. A friend who was now dead. But it had to mean something that Jimmy's reputation was still as solid as ever, especially with his widow and young son. That surely had to mean something even if his own reputation was shot to pieces.

He sighed miserably as he scrutinized the dark shadows ahead of him, but there was nothing other than the faint outline of pine trees, the tips swaying ever so slightly in the cool breeze. Putting it down to his fevered imagination, he shook his head and returned to the cabin and his twisted bed sheets, to spend the remainder of the early hours of the morning reliving his past when Jimmy was alive and well and no troubles haunted him.

Much later, when he heard Gibbs in the kitchen, he chose to remain in his room, having no inclination to spend breakfast time with someone who clearly felt his presence a burden.

Unfortunately for him, Gibbs had other ideas.

Without so much as a knock, his bedroom door was thrown open and the grey-haired agent's voice rang out,

"Get your butt out here, DiNozzo; breakfast is on the table."

About to decline such an abrasive invitation in no uncertain terms, Gibbs' next words had the younger man swallowing back his reply.

"It's either that or I phone Ducky, who can easily arrange a visit to the local hospital for you to be hooked to an I.V. Your choice."

_Your choice_? _Hah! Fat chance of that anytime this century_. With Gibbs there was never a choice Tony thought sullenly. You did what he wanted or...or nothing. You were out. Which was why he had no other option...

Half slumped on the bed, Tony wondered what would happen if he did what he wanted; if he simply dressed, got in Gibbs' truck and left. The idea intrigued him in an insane sort of way and he found himself thinking up suitable scenarios for his escape until the sound of plates being banged down onto the table in the kitchen area broke into his reverie. It was Gibbs' subtle way of telling him he'd better hurry orelse...

At least there was no aroma of frying bacon and eggs for which Tony felt grateful; he was pretty sure that if he set eyes on such food he would promptly throw up, so it was with profound relief that he found toast with honey and some fresh orange juice waiting for him.

Lowering himself carefully onto the seat opposite Gibbs, he proceeded to keep his eyes fixed firmly on the food as he slowly proceeded to eat. Even as his stomach rumbled in hunger, his throat began to tighten in protest at what he was eating. His dilemma, however, must have been obvious to Gibbs because, surprisingly to Tony, no complaint was made about the slow pace of his consumption. But he couldn't help following the mug of freshly percolated coffee that had just been filled, his eyes full of lust.

Seeing that look, Gibbs put his mug down on the table.

"It's not on the 'to do' list."

Tony frowned, meeting Gibbs' dry stare. "List?"

"Ducky's list of what you can eat, drink and do."

And reaching over, he nudged a mug toward Tony, aware that it had earlier been dismissed with disgust.

"I suppose," stated Tony grimly, his jaw tightening, "that if there's a 'to do' list, I should expect a 'not to do' list as well?"

Examining him over the top of his mug, Gibbs answered, "You know Ducky and it's longer than the first."

Seething, Tony snapped, "So you like doing guard duty?"

Blue eyes seem to rake his skin and Tony worked hard at remaining still.

"I'd say it's more child minding."

Hands clenched tightly, Tony barely held on to his temper.

"Down it, the meds too." It was not a request.

Eyes lowered, Tony noticed the two white pills resting close to the mug.

Seeing the hesitation, Gibbs clamped down on it. "You really don't want to test me on this one, DiNozzo."

Eyeing the liquid suspiciously, Tony demanded, "What is it?"

"Malted milk. It's got extra vitamins important for building you up, so Ducky says. I just hope it helps with the grey cells too, seeing as you seem particularly lacking in that area."

The dig hit its mark, bull's eye, as Tony's cheeks flamed, but he knew he had little option but to obey.

One slice of toast was, however, his limit, at which point Tony pushed away the plate ready for an argument, but it never came. Looking up, he was ready for some show of disappointment or rebuke, yet the jaded expression on Gibbs' face rocked him more than he could imagine and he felt again the heat of colour rise in his face.

Pushing back his chair, unmindful of the pain it caused, Tony's eyes flashed his ire.

"I didn't ask to come here, and by the looks of it, you weren't either. Let's just admit this was a f-cked up idea, lock up and get the hell back to DC. I can just as well recuperate in my own place and you can go find an active case that will have a hell of a better chance of being solved with you on it."

Gibbs' grey head tilted a little to one side and a trace of cynical amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth. But there wasn't a hint of humour in the blue eyes, chilly in their demeanour, which regarded Tony for a length of time that eventually had the younger man squirming.

It was the ringing of Gibbs' cell phone that broke the uneasy moment and Tony exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

As usual the older man spoke very little on the phone and only just before he snapped the phone shut did he say crisply, "He's doing fine, Ziva. Oh and tell Abby if she phones me one more time before dinner, I'll have more than words to say to her when I get back."

Trying not to wince at the clear threat and even more at the fact that it had been for Abby, Tony turned to retreat to his own room. If Gibbs was getting short with Abby, things certainly didn't bode well for him.

The solid presence of Gibbs at his back had the younger agent hesitating at his doorway, turning to face his boss, a false smile plastered on his face.

"If you're so sure that this is a f-cked up idea, then what the hell do you call going to Philly?" The silence that followed was all too telling, but still Gibbs wasn't finished with his withering questioning. "And you think cases get cleared up when I'm on them?...Great intuition you've got there, DiNozzo."

Tony was well aware that no commendation was being given him; the scathing tone if nothing else told him all he needed to know on that score and his eyes dropped away as he turned, intending to continue on into his room.

The hand on his arm, spinning him around to face the burning glare of his team leader, wasn't what Tony wanted right now and nor were the words thrown into his face.

"So what the hell happened to that intuition that made you go running off to Philly without backup? What the hell made you think you were so invincible you could take down a whole crime syndicate on your own?"

As icy blue eyes burned into him, the autocratic manner had only one effect on Tony and that was to confront the older man as he found the courage to stand up to Gibbs. And drawing a deep, torn breath, he snapped, "A friend asked for my help, okay? A friend, Gibbs. Can you understand that particular concept?"

Gibbs stilled, fighting the desire to reach out and shake some sense into the obstinate agent.

Fighting to hide his brittle vulnerability behind an inscrutable mask, still Tony trembled with the force of emotion that coursed through him. He backed away, suddenly spine chillingly aware that tangling with Gibbs was highly detrimental to his health at any time, but now particularly so. With fists clenched tight at his sides - the searing memory of hearing the man he admired above all others saying that he didn't trust him - he gave the older man a cool stare and turned away, taking juvenile satisfaction in closing the bedroom door in the older man's face.

---------

_Part 5 to follow_


	5. Chapter 5

14

**Fractured Part 5**

For once, Abby could find little satisfaction in the work she was doing and now, sitting at her computer, she stared at the screen, but clearly was seeing nothing. Sighing deeply, she set her elbows on her knees and rested her chin into her cupped hands.

The approaching footsteps warned her well in advance that she had a visitor, but she chose not to acknowledge the fact.

"Abby?" Tim's voice conveyed his evident concern, but the pig-tailed Goth began her own conversation.

"We're losing him and there's nothing I can do."

Gently spinning her chair round, McGee looked down into his favourite scientist's worried face.

"Hey, come on. You heard Ducky. Tony's with Gibbs now."

And as if she hadn't spoken the question a thousand times already, Abby raised plaintive dark eyes and whispered, "Why didn't he tell us what was going on? Did he doubt we'd help him? Did he Tim?"

If he actually counted the times he'd had this conversation, he could be forgiven for allowing a slight hint of frustration to enter his voice, but the agent was as worried as his colleague, only unwilling to add to her dark mood, so he worked to put her mind at ease as he had a hundred and more times already.

"That's just it, Abby. Tony knew we'd bend over backwards to help him, which he knew would have put us in a difficult position."

"You mean with Gibbs? But didn't he know Gibbs would be the first to help him?"

Tilting his head, Tim was relieved to see the Goth more focused as she fixed him with imploring eyes.

"Probably with the Agency."

"So you think he was protecting us, not telling us, you mean?"

The younger man nodded and smiled his approval that she was managing to follow his line of reasoning.

"But who's going to protect Tony? Ziva seems to think the Agency is going to come down hard on him. Slap his wrists big time."

Rolling his eyes ominously, Tim refrained from saying that their senior field agent was going to get far more than slapped wrists, but it seemed that Abby could read minds well enough and her own eyes grew large with concern.

"Bossman hasn't been sounding his normal chirpy self when I've phoned to get my hourly updates on Tony."

Unable to comprehend how Abby could ever see Gibbs as either 'normal' or 'chirpy', his own expression still revealed his anxiety as he stuttered, "Y...you phone him e...every hour?"

Standing now, the young woman began to pace around her lab. "C'mon, McGee, we may have been banned from visiting, but he never said anything about not phoning."

"Mmmm...So, er, what did he say?"

Scrunching up her face, Abby answered gloomily, "He wasn't exactly talkative."

Shaking his head at her naiveté, McGee was just about to warn her against continuing that line of communication, when Ducky entered the lab.

"Ah, I wondered if you'd be here Timothy. Ziva asked me to remind you that teamwork means exactly that. Her words ran along the lines of...'And if he thinks because Tony chose to follow that route, that he can too, he is going to have to think again.' There was, I believe, a particular glint in her eyes when she spoke those very words so I would be failing in my duties as a physician who has taken the Hippocratic Oath if I were to allow you to ignore this warning."

The fact that he was chuckling did nothing to ease McGee's worry, and he scowled darkly. "Ever since Tony's lone mission she's been..." He paused, searching for a suitable adjective which wouldn't get him killed.

Ducky was happy to accommodate the agent. "Difficult?"

The way McGee was feeling, it obviously didn't come anywhere close to what he wanted to convey, but he nodded politely.

"Ziva is missing Anthony - it is her way of dealing with his absence."

"Well I wish she'd find a different way of dealing rather than threatening to eliminate me at any and every opportunity."

The faintest flicker of a smile graced the young woman between them as she asked, "You're not scared of Ziva are you, McGee?"

About to shake his head, the young agent rethought his position and not in the least embarrassed, stated, "Yes - I kind of enjoy being alive."

"Well let us hope Anthony echoes your sentiments after spending this time of recuperation with Jethro," stated Ducky softly.

They all looked at one another, no one looking particularly optimistic.

--------

Bitterly cold as it was, Gibbs took his coffee and sat on the deck oblivious to the weather or the view before him. If the grey-haired man saw the lone bird swoop down and pluck a fish from the water, nothing showed on his features; his whole attention on one thing and one thing alone.

Taking a gulp of his steaming coffee he stared into his mind seeing again Tony's face twisted with something other than pain as he confronted Gibbs just moments earlier.

He'd seen his agent in every mood conceivable, and though Tony was renowned for his juvenile pranks and womanising smiles, he also had a darker side that could, depending on the case, turn hard and brittle. It was a side that, though rare, kept McGee and Ziva extra vigilant; they would usually find work to keep them well away from their senior field agent when he was in the grip of one of his darker moments and everyone, even Gibbs to a certain extent, breathed a sigh of relief when Tony managed to break free from the desolate place he had been in to return to playing the spoilt former frat boy out for a good time.

But this was different. Tony's darkness had a much uglier, jagged side to it and running a hand through his iron-grey hair, the former marine doubted if this could be sorted with a simple head slap and a sharp order to snap out of it.

He knew what it felt like to lose someone in combat, and he knew what it felt like to lose one of his own team; Kate's loss still had the ability to catch him unawares at the worst of times and the guilt and sorrow would never totally be erased. He had simply learned to live with it, but it seemed that Tony was unable to reach that frame of mind and Gibbs was positive that anything he said now would be ignored or worse.

He recalled how just a few hours earlier this very morning he had woken to Tony's yelling as he'd wrested himself from his nightmare. Leaving his own bed he had watched the injured man leave the cabin and had stood silently in the shadows watching his agent stand barefoot at the edge of the lake. He'd considered going to him then, wanting to help ease those troubled thoughts that had forced him from sleep, but the mood in which they had parted company earlier did not bode well for further conversation if body language was anything to go by.

And if Gibbs were to be honest with himself, there was a raw bleeding ache within his own body caused by Tony failing to come to him when there was trouble. That his lead agent, whom he'd trained and nurtured more carefully than any other person before, could simply tell him a pack of lies and go off and then face overwhelming odds, was anathema to the former gunny. Feeling the tension beginning to build up inside of him, he knew that if he continued to think on this crushing stupidity, he'd end up wanting to knock Tony's head off his shoulders. So no, going to him now was not a good idea.

But there would come a time when he **would** have this out with him. Of that there was no doubt whatsoever. But he needed to pick his moment with care for he was resolute that Tony was going to listen to his talk and then talk himself - even if Gibbs had to tie him down for it.

----------

In the end, once his coffee was finished, Gibbs had gone to the back of the cabin and spent a satisfying hour chopping kindling for the wood fire he intended lighting in the evening. It wasn't, he admitted wryly, as satisfying as giving his thick-headed agent a good hiding - not even close - but under the circumstances it would have to do.

And later he'd returned to the cabin and made a hearty fresh tuna and vegetable casserole with everything thrown into the bowl and then thrust into the oven to bake. Simple but effective. It would, he hoped, tempt the poor appetite of his charge.

He'd trusted that the aroma of the food placed on the kitchen table would encourage DiNozzo to emerge from his room and make an appearance so that he wouldn't have to go banging on his bedroom door, but as the food began to cool it seemed that unless Gibbs took some action he would be sitting and eating alone.

The former marine sighed as he stared at the still steaming food; Ducky had been most explicit in his instructions when it came to Tony's eating habits. Meal times were to be followed rigidly and without exception the young Italian was to be coerced one way or the other to eat. Missing meals was not to be encouraged at any cost.

Gibbs had no intention of that happening, and approaching Tony's door he gave a sharp rap and called, "Food's up, DiNozzo. Come and get it."

When he got no reply to his second call, he shook his head in disbelief at the younger man's stubbornness and strode into the room ready to frog march one obstinate field agent to the table and if need be spoon feed him. But having cast his eye round the empty room and having checked the bathroom, Gibbs realised that DiNozzo was no longer in the cabin.

Damn! Going outside, his face had darkened with frustration as he'd checked the area around the cabin and along the lake side, but there was no sign of his agent. Opening his phone, he pressed the key for speed dialling the Italian. He expression grew stormier still as he heard the cheery answering message.

"DiNozzo, you'd better have a good excuse for not being here. Now get your sorry ass back here." Before finishing with an explicit warning, "Don't make me come looking for you!"

Returning inside the cabin, he scanned Tony's room and with a sinking feeling he realised the convalescent had not only gone off without informing him, but had also neglected to take his midday painkillers. He cursed long and hard.

Spooning the food back in to its large casserole dish, he replaced it in the oven to keep warm until one AWOL agent decided to return.

----------

"When I left him in your care, Jethro, I expected you to take good care of the young man."

It wasn't often Gibbs winced, but he was doing it now as he restrained himself from holding the phone away from his ear as Ducky gave him a piece of his mind.

"And as much as you may deny it to the heavens, I know you're hurting."

Gibbs' snort in no way inhibited the M.E. in full lecture mode as the older man continued acerbically, "For whatever misconstrued reasoning, the boy failed to come to you and that must cut deeply. But hear me well, you will get over this."

Gibbs glower might not have been communicated over the cell line, but Ducky was an intuitive man and he paused for a moment, sighing understandingly.

"Anthony is a complex young man, as you well know who finds any show of affection to be almost distasteful. It is as if starved of it as a child, he cut himself off from that emotion until, that is, he came to NCIS. And very slowly, you and Abigail insinuated yourselves under a chink in his armour and he began to allow himself some leeway in this area. Ahhh, but you have done a terrible thing, Jethro. You have led him to believe he's lost that affection which he holds so dear - at a time when he's grieving the loss of a friend and is in trouble with the Agency. You have used your anger to seek retribution. So tell me this, Jethro. Does one hurt merit another?"

"Ducky, this has nothing to do with--."

But the M.E. had had enough of Gibbs' procrastination, and cutting him off sharply, stated, "And I can tell you this, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, consider yourself fortunate that I'm not there in person, because if I had a switch to hand, I would be marching you to the nearest woodshed to beat some sense into your stubborn hide!"

The silence was telling.

"Ducky, I--."

"I have no wish to hear what you have to say right now. What I do require is for you to work this distasteful business out before I decide to do it for you. Now, be so kind as to phone me the moment you have located our absconder."

And giving him a taste of his own medicine, Ducky cut the connection, leaving one seriously perturbed lead agent.

Gibbs blinked. He had never seen the Scot so upset or angry. He rubbed his forehead and considered that possibly he did need to rethink his strategy with DiNozzo. So far, he'd achieved nothing but a more pissed-off field agent and an even more pissed-off pathologist.

----------

It was a good two hours before a police vehicle drew up beside the wooden steps leading to the deck of the cabin, and from his seat next to the driver, Tony could see Gibbs standing tall and erect at the top, his expression less than welcoming. With a shudder of apprehension, instantly repressed, he opened the passenger door, gave the driver a nod of thanks and slowly stepped out.

As the car reversed and drove back the way it had come, Tony dared to make eye contact and immediately wished he hadn't.

Working hard to keep a hold of his frayed temper, Gibbs noted the guarded expression in his agent, took in the cut over Tony's left eye and the way the man was favouring his right hand. The ex-gunny's blue eyes narrowed dangerously and just as Tony was about to pass him by, his hand shot out and he grabbed his agent's wrist the better to assess the damage which was now all too evident from the skinned knuckles to the bruised and swollen hand.

"Care to explain, DiNozzo?" His tone was dangerously soft as he backed his agent against the deck railing and Tony tried without success to conceal his wince.

"It's nothing."

He looked sheepish as he attempted to prise his wrist away, without success. When his chin was also grasped in a firm hold and a closer inspection made of the cut over his eye, he just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Eye rolling never went down well with his team leader and Tony didn't need much intuition to know now would be particularly bad timing.

"I...I was--."

"In a fight?"

"No!" Then grimacing, he continued, "Not exactly."

He proceeded to explain that he'd interrupted the local gas station being robbed by a couple of amateurs and had put a stop to it.

"It was nothing, Gibbs. Two kids out for a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels. The perps hardly knew what they were doing. I took one out and the other took a swing at me."

"With what?"

Hesitating for just a fraction of a second, Tony wondered whether he could get away with the slight omission, until he read the look in Gibbs eyes.

"One of the bottles."

He waited for the eruption to come, but Gibbs simply stared a moment longer then stepped away leaving Tony feeling strangely bereft.

When Tony followed Gibbs inside, he found the kitchen table set and the smell of cooked food permeating the place. The scene was so startlingly domestic that he almost did a double take.

Realising he was in enough trouble, he immediately made for the table and was just about to take his seat when Gibbs' dark glare stopped him in his tracks and thinking it was to do with him failing to wash his hands, he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and began to head for the bathroom.

"Bedroom. Now!"

The curt imperative had him cringing as he hunched his shoulders self-protectively.

Crap, Gibbs couldn't be serious, could he? Freaking time out? He wasn't five years old!

It had been years since Tony had experienced such a punishment yet even with the passing of so much time it still had the ability to cause him immense discomfort. With a reluctance borne of past memories, Tony trudged to his room, more than a little chary when Gibbs followed.

But before he could voice his concern, the older man reached over, grabbed Tony's night attire - boxers and T-shirt - from off the bed and thrust them into his arms.

"You're sending me to bed?" He couldn't have sounded more indignant as he shook his head in disbelief.

Ignoring his question, the older man nudged Tony into the bathroom and closed the door. Moments later the suitably dressed agent reappeared in full sulk mode.

"I'm not freaking five years old, Gibbs."

Looking him straight in the eye, the grey-haired man stated crisply, "Bed, DiNozzo."

"But--."

"Do you want me to put you there?" his voice carried a soft but unmistakable warning.

"Aw, come on, Gibbs!"

But no matter his protest, Tony slowly shuffled forward and climbed into bed pulling the covers over him while muttering under his breath that he thought spanking was probably taking it a little too far.

"On your front, DiNozzo."

"Wha-at?"

Paling dramatically, Tony immediately regretted his last snarky comment and attempted to make amends.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he stuttered, "I...I was kidding, Gibbs. I...er...I didn't--."

Closing his eyes in obvious exasperation, Gibbs barked, "What the hell's wrong with you? Over. I need to check your wound."

Even as intense relief flooded through the younger man, he squirmed with embarrassment as he stated softly, "I...I'm okay."

Giving him careful perusal, the former marine stated firmly, "Good. Now turn over."

"I said I'm fine. Don't you believe me?"

Jaded blue eyes carried their own message, but still Gibbs felt the need to make his position clear.

"I've already told Ducky that when it comes to your health, I trust you only as far as I can see you, so what do you think, DiNozzo?"

Eyes suddenly wide with blinding comprehension, Tony's immediate elation at understanding the true meaning of Gibbs words to the M.E. was slightly dimmed by his continued discomfort at Gibbs' request.

Frowning in displeasure, Gibbs snapped, "Do you have a problem or what?"

"Well, it's kind of...Hey!"

Losing patience with Tony's reluctance to comply, Gibbs had attempted to push the young man over while lowering the covers, but Tony's hands had clamped hard on the sheets as he avoided Gibbs' manoeuvre, much to the irritation of the older man.

"What the hell's got into you, DiNozzo? All I want to do is check your wound. What's your problem?"

Screwing his nose up, Tony's closed expression conveyed more than he realised as Gibbs slowly shook his head in understanding.

"You're shy?" Even Gibbs sounded sceptical. "You know, DiNozzo," he continued dryly, "I have seen you without clothes. Spending 3 days and nights in the ICU with you, I kind of got used to tubes being checked and changed and all those sorts of things that nurses and the like do when trying to keep you the hell alive. The fact that you were for the most part naked as a jay bird didn't make too big an impression, but trust me, DiNozzo, I've seen everything you've got so checking out your wound is not going to cause me any undue trauma. Now, are you going to do as I ask?"

Tony's head jerked up, his face flaming with deep colour, his eyes burning with a feverish brightness, yet if asked, he wouldn't have known whether this was from awkwardness or from the total shock of hearing that Gibbs hadn't in fact deserted him when he'd been in hospital.

----------

Later, an ice pack on his swollen knuckles and antiseptic cream lathered on his abrasions, Tony tried hard to bring his swirling thoughts under a semblance of control. It was as if everything that had happened over the last few days had been turned upside down and for once the wounded agent didn't know whether he was coming or going.

He started when the door to his bedroom opened and the cause of most of his consternation came in carrying a tray of food. He wasn't used to being waited on hand and foot, and when it came down to Gibbs doing the waiting...well, it didn't sit well at all. But it had been made transparent that his future didn't bode well if he were to set foot out of the bed unless absolutely essential and bathroom breaks were the only acceptable reason as far as the marine was concerned.

He stared at a tray containing a dish of food as it was placed on his lap feeling as much enthusiasm for the contents as a convicted criminal taking his last meal before facing the gallows.

He wasn't used to waiting when he knew Gibbs considered him in the wrong, and Tony began to feel distinctly ill at ease. As he took up his fork he initiated the next conversation.

"I suppose I should have told you where I was going."

Gibbs looked up, his blue eyes pinning Tony with uncomfortable precision.''

"You think so, DiNozzo?... Eat."

The curt nod he gave Tony was order enough and after an unhealthy pause, the younger man sank back down, uncomfortably aware that he had no appetite.

Picking up his fork, he felt the lump in his throat grow even bigger and proceeded to move the fish and vegetables around in his dish hoping that his actual lack of consuming such food would go unnoticed.

"Move that around any more and that fish is going to get seasick."

Tony's hand stilled, and he grimaced knowing that he was in a catch-22 situation. Eat and he'd end up throwing up; don't eat and Gibbs would end up throwing the food at him!

The lack of reaction to his words had Gibbs' eyes narrowing, but he suppressed, with difficulty, the urge to smack his agent hard, and snapped in exasperation, "If you want me to spoon feed you, DiNozzo, you're going about it the right way!"

Raising appalled green eyes, Tony stared aghast, but Gibbs' features were a study in inscrutability, as he stated flatly, "Your choice."

Reluctantly, Tony speared a potato, raised it slowly to his mouth and swallowed with difficulty. He repeated the motion a number of times until Gibbs' penetrating gaze slid away from him.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that the meal was a trial for the pale younger man, and no doubt the reprimand he was expecting wasn't making matters any better, but Ducky's earlier lecture to Gibbs about sensible nourishment had struck home and Gibbs intended to stay focused on that point even if one delinquent junior was testing that focus to the limit.

Gibbs nodded to himself. Let the kid wallow. He knew a tongue-lashing was headed his way, but he was going to have to wait a little longer. Gibbs was more than happy to keep Tony hanging. Hell, he was prepared to let him tie the knot as tight as he liked. And with just a hint of a smile, the older man left Tony alone to flounder in self-imposed discomfort while he finished his coffee on the deck.

----------

"What were you doing in the store?"

Gibbs tone was perfectly controlled, with not a hint of censure, but Tony had been expecting the question when he eventually returned and he inwardly grimaced. Lying to Gibbs was something he'd learned the hard way was not recommended. Still, he hesitated - he didn't think that his need for liquor would be all that well appreciated - and decided that going for the lesser sin, the act of omission, was the better course.

"I was thirsty after walking that distance, so..."

The older man continued to watch him, head canted slightly to one side, making Tony feel...uncomfortable as hell. He began to fidget slightly, a definite give away, but one he seemed incapable of controlling.

"Did you have your cell on you?"

It was a pointless question; everyone knew Tony went nowhere without it; it was as much a part of him as every vital organ in his body.

He nodded warily. He knew where this line of questioning was going.

"So why didn't you call me?"

His tone continued to be mild, deceptively so, but Tony didn't make the mistake of lowering his guard.

"It all happened so fast that I--."

"_**After**_ it went down." Steel had crept into Gibbs' tone.

Tony blinked and would have liked to have broken eye contact, but he knew it would have been as much an admission of his guilt as if he'd spoken the words aloud.

"I...I sort of got caught up in the whole situation and it didn't occur to me until--."

Again Gibbs interrupted, "Tell me this, DiNozzo, do you have any idea what the concept of teamwork means?"

Tony bristled at the implication, answering sullenly, "Yes."

"Is that so? Well you'll have to excuse me if I think otherwise." The tone had hardened considerably, the sarcasm bleeding into the words.

Shifting restlessly, Tony grimaced, unsure whether he was relieved that it was all coming to a head or not.

Straightening his shoulders, feeling at a definite disadvantage lying in the bed, he stated curtly, "I did what I had to do."

"So tell me, DiNozzo, exactly what was that?"

"Look," his eyes flashed fire, "I'm not going to apologise for what I did at the store. What happened happened, I wasn't about to stand by and let two punks get away with a crime when I could stop it. But okay, maybe I should have let you know what went down."

Gibbs' dark eyes stabbed him with the full force of his anger as the ex-marine snapped, "And maybe you should have let me know about Jimmy."

Gibbs could see as clear as a Swiss mountain stream - his agent was closing down before his very eyes, unwilling to go where the older man demanded, but Gibbs had no intention of letting that happen. Slamming his hand down on the bed he then leant forward and pushed him in the chest.

"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to shut down on me until we've had this out once and for all!"

And drawing on all his restraint, Gibbs lowered his voice, growling, "Ducky wanted us to have a talk and that's what we're going to do. Now talk."

----------

_To be continued._


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6 (penultimate chapter)**

**Warning : Language**

For just a moment, Tony stared at Gibbs and wondered how things could have possibly deteriorated to what they were. How f-cked up had he got that the one man who meant more to him than...? He shook his head; he wasn't going to have a replay of that tired song.

Flexing stiff shoulders, he eased himself back against the pillows, attempting to appear to the entire world as if he were totally relaxed. The way his hands played with the edge of his comforter, however, told a different story.

"Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, Gibbs - you do know that, right?"

His eyes flickered up as he waited for an imperceptible nod that never came.

"Do you have any idea what it's like at the Academy if they know your old man's head of a multinational organisation?"

Tony smiled, but there was only darkness in his eyes.

"Talk about hazing - hell, my life was--."

As if unwilling to reveal the ordeal he'd endured, he paused, cleared his throat and then continued in a different direction.

"But Jimmy was from the Bronx - family of blue collar workers and damned proud of it. Yet he didn't give a shit that I'd been brought up with a silver spoon in my mouth. We hit it off and from then on life became...well... easier, happier." Tony smiled tentatively, remembering those times of fond memories and then he sobered, his eyes shining with a different light. "On our graduation night, we swore we'd always be there for one another. Took an oath of sorts."

And seeing nothing on Gibbs' face to show his understanding, Tony gave him a hard pointed glare, and growled, "He made a mistake, okay? A f-cking mistake!" And pointing his finger at his superior, he goaded insolently, "But hell, what would you know about mistakes? You never make 'em, do you Gibbs?"

Refusing to rise to the bait, the grey-haired agent held on to his temper and hiding his own hurt, he asked gently, "Why didn't you come to me?"

And Tony almost laughed out loud at the irony of it. Why indeed? Because hadn't he wanted desperately to tell Gibbs? Hadn't he said as much to Jimmy? Hadn't he insisted that Gibbs would know what to do, that if anybody could sort out the mess he was in, Gibbs was the man?

But, as he knew all too well, life often sucked big time. Jimmy had been insistent; had made it clear that if Tony opened his mouth to anyone he, Jimmy, was as good as done for with his career. And then what would his wife and sons do, for God's sake?

Tony had acquiesced, far from relishing the prospect of helping his friend without Gibbs' presence. But eventually, as he got himself deeper and deeper into the unholy mess, Tony began to believe that it was actually for the better. What if dreams came true and Gibbs had joined him? - that would have made two of them in line for suspension or even worse - discharge with loss of pension. He couldn't ask that of anyone, especially Gibbs. The agency was his life.

And working hard to avoid thinking that the same applied to him, Tony veered his mind away from that crippling thought.

Deliberately avoiding eye contact now, Tony's eyes slid away as he stated flatly, "Everything was under control."

And Gibbs had to consciously bite his lower lip to force back a scathing retort as to his own opinion of that statement, taking the time to rub the tension out of his neck muscles so that when he next spoke he too had a modicum of control.

"Go on."

"A drug deal was going down. The Coppelli family had indicated that Jimmy was to make sure Vice was kept well away. Instead, Jimmy decided to come clean, for his family's sake, and so he gave Vice the info., but demanded to be in on the bust."

Gibbs sighed heavily, closing his eyes momentarily as the memory of his critically wounded agent hooked up to every medical lead imaginable shot through his mind.

"So where did you come into this?"

Tony hesitated, the lie on his lips until he saw Gibbs' astute stare. Dejection seemed to ooze from his every pore as he continued, "I knew it was risky what Jimmy was planning and I couldn't let him do it without backup - I'm talking my backup, my own personal backup. I went in undercover."

"On whose authority would that be, DiNozzo?"

It was Tony's turn to close his eyes at the biting sarcasm.

"I told Vice I was doing some preliminary undercover surveillance for NCIS on a deal connected with the Navy Yark, but as this was going down, I'd be happy to offer my services. The chief knew me from my earlier days, knew I was with NCIS, had no reason to doubt my offer."

"Offer your services," Gibbs echoed dryly.

Ignoring the grimness in the lead agent's voice, Tony continued, "I came in as a potential new buyer, used an alias I knew would be water tight - set it all up. Carlotta's people were happy to have more interest, but then it all went to hell in a hand basket when someone in Vice showed themselves too early. The perps got the drop on us and...the rest is history."

Eyes flashing dangerously, Tony continued defiantly as if sensing Gibbs' next words would be condemnation, "I don't regret what I did!" But as misery oozed from his every pore, he hunched forward in the bed to rest his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands, while he muttered, "Only what happened to Jimmy."

Every protective cell in Gibbs' body screamed out at that moment for him to take action and offer support to the hurting man, but his own hurt helped him to steel himself from approaching, to keep his distance, so that he could finish handing out his lesson.

"So now what, DiNozzo?"

Tony raised eyes red-rimmed with weariness and torment; he looked so drained that it appeared as if a slight breeze could have downed him. But he was unable to hold Gibbs' gaze as he answered flatly, "I told you, I'm resigning. As soon as I get back to Headquarters, I'll type up my letter and have it on the Director's desk. Problem solved."

Tony failed to see Gibbs' eyes flash blue fire.

"Is that so?"

The younger man ignored the leaden sarcasm that coated the words like thick molasses.

When Tony raised his head, he exhaled a shaky breath trying not to dwell on the unthinkable.

Scathing didn't even come close to what Gibbs was conveying as he stated crisply, "I never took you for one of those holier-than-thou types, DiNozzo."

"Wha-at?" His confusion was clear, but Gibbs wasn't about to make things any easier.

"Isn't that what's done? Do penance? Renounce the world and enter a monastery? Personally, I think the world would be a better place if more people took it up, but you?" Scorn was too light a word to put on Gibbs' tone and Tony flinched visibly. "I kind of think giving up sex could be a problem for you? Ditto for following the Roman method of falling on your sword; it would be pretty messy."

Hiding his hurt with a noncommittal shrug, Tony's whole body seemed to deflate and with bone weary resignation, he shook his head and turned as if to throw back his cover and get up, muttering, "Think what you like."

But again, a firm hand reached out to push him back, dark eyes staring at him stonily.

"I didn't say you could move from there!"

Muttering under his breath, Tony tried wrenching away even though the movement made the wound in his back ache painfully.

Sucking in a deep breath, he growled, "I'm done here."

"You're done when I say you're done, not before. Now keep your ass in that bed!"

Tony, eyes flat and full of unforgiving hostility, raked Gibbs. Defiance emanated from his every pore. It had been a long time since he'd been made to feel so inconsequential, hell, less than inconsequential. The last time he'd been made to feel like this was with his father, when...no, he wouldn't go back there; that door was firmly closed and bolted.

Shuddering, he threw Gibbs an insolent look that owed more to his acting skills than to reality.

"I gave up needing a father when I was twelve years old. You can quit treating me like a kid!" And heart pounding fit to burst, he refused to acknowledge even to himself that yet again he was lying.

With a feral grin, his eyes flashing dangerously, Gibbs shot back acerbically, "Oh, you'd _**know**_ if I was treating you like a kid, DiNozzo."

Uncomfortably aware of the flush of colour rising up his neck, Tony's jaw tightened. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Tension flooded the air, drawn as taut as a drum skin. Then as Tony blinked, he suppressed every hurt, exposed cell in his body, covering it with a brittle mask of insufferable conceit as he stated, "I think beating the crap out of your subordinate...would... be frowned on by the powers that be!"

As his blue eyes narrowed dangerously, Gibbs struggled with the raging need to shake some sense into the younger man and it made it no easier that another part of him wanted to pull Tony into his shoulder and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

It wasn't. And anyway, Tony was no fool.

Stepping away from the bedside, Gibbs picked up the tray with hands white-knuckled and turned away.

"Ducky's on his way. I suggest you stay in that bed and not give him any further excuse to chew either of us out when he gets here."

----------

His mind reeled. Jimmy. Gibbs. Jimmy. Gibbs. Shit, it wasn't as if he'd ever had a choice. The moment he'd fallen under the former marine's gruff spell the choice had been taken away from him. Gibbs wasn't in any trouble. Jimmy was. There was only one solution. So why was he suddenly being made to feel that he'd made the wrong choice; that he'd left Gibbs for Jimmy? He'd be more than willing to bet a year's pay that Gibbs would have gone to the aid of a fellow marine should help have been requested. So why should it be any different when he followed the code of honour? Dammit to hell, would Gibbs have him be something different to what he was?

As Tony's chaotic thoughts whirled more and more out of control, he felt the walls of the bedroom start to close in on him. The intense need to escape the confines of the cabin and to be outside, away from the suffocating net of control that seemed to encompass his every move, drove him to action. Hurriedly dressing, he silently opened the patio windows of his bedroom and stepped onto the deck.

The pinch of chill wind blew off the lake, making him shiver, but he breathed deeply, welcoming the penetrating cold, determined to blow away the suffocating cobwebs that were torturing him.

And before he had time for clear thought, he was scrabbling off the deck and onto the grass, heading for the lake and its brooding calmness, oblivious of the darkness of the night and the icy wind that heralded the impending storm.

His brain was a kaleidoscope of thoughts racing around in erratic leaps interspersed by heavy duty curses. He crossed the grass and stumbled onto the path circumventing the dark, silent lake while the wind blew an eerie echo over the water proclaiming that worse weather was to follow.

When the rain decided to make an appearance, it came down in solid grey sheets, soaking Tony to the skin in mere seconds, but he barely gave it a moment's thought as he limped hurriedly along the path now thick with mud as if he had an important rendezvous.

The trouble with secrets was that you couldn't tell anyone, and yet it wasn't even a secret - not really. It's just that he hadn't confided in Jimmy to the point where he could tell him the truth of why he was really there to help him. Yes, his promise made at the Academy had gone a long way, but not the whole way. When his father had deserted him all those years back the scar had cut deeper than even Tony had been willing to accept and he had buried the pain of that loss, unwilling to share with anyone the true grief it had brought him. The harsh school of disappointment made sure Tony viewed life with a brittle outlook that he managed to cover with a spoilt frat-boy outlook that fooled most.

But Gibbs had wittingly or unwittingly - Tony still hadn't worked that out - spun a spell that had caught Tony's heart, made him make some readjustments in the way he saw himself and the way he saw others and from that moment on the path had been drawn for what Tony would follow in life.

That he knew Jimmy's plan was in some significant way flawed was obvious almost from the start, but knowing what Gibbs would have done in his place pushed Tony on, for he had somehow got it into his head that the code Gibbs lived by, must be the one that he, Tony must live by too. You did not desert a friend in his hour of need, even if that friend had taken kickbacks and fried his brain with heroin. Those were mere complicating factors that had to be taken into the equation. Nor was Tony careless of his own safety; he took nothing for granted - Gibbs had made sure of that, yet even knowing that there would be a price to pay, he had accepted that sorry state of affairs as part of the whole mess.

His thoughts churned over and over in his head as he walked along the banks of the lake. At one point the path was thick with foliage that had grown onto it. Nettles and dock leaves grasped at Tony's sweatpants, but he kicked his way through them, determined on keeping his momentum as if that would surely provide the inspiration to solve the riot of thoughts his brain was trying to bring under control.

It was as he was swiping at his eyes in a vain attempt to keep the heavy rain from them that his toe caught in a thicket of low lying undergrowth. Caught off balance, he attempted to use his other foot to dislodge the irritating nuisance only to find his body reel to the side as the earth gave way slightly from the combined weight of the rain and his body. And then the rain slammed into him with a sideways ferocity that was his undoing.

It didn't last long, but it was enough to shatter his sense of equilibrium and as his arms flailed to right what had gone wrong, he felt his foot slide further down the bank. As he felt his body lean wildly over the water's edge he flailed his arms backwards. And even knowing he wasn't going to like what happened next, still the iciness of the frozen waters took his breath away.

----------

It was his favourite single malt whisky, and as Ducky handed a glass of Glenfiddich to his friend, he breathed in the aroma of an alcoholic beverage that could so restore him to composure with just the simple sensorial touch of the golden liquid in a cut-glass tumbler.

"To your good health, Jethro."

He raised the glass and swallowed appreciatively, watching his friend do the same. He smiled as Gibbs closed his eyes in a rare show of approval.

"Don't you think that's throwing the toast in my face when I've got DiNozzo to child-mind."

Leaning back on the sofa, the mild-mannered M.E.'s eyes crinkled in amusement.

Oh, come now, Jethro. You know you'd have been like a bear with a sore head had you been deprived of this down time with young Anthony."

Grimacing wryly, Gibbs lifted his shaking head.

"I think you've got the equation mixed up, Ducky. I'm a bear with a sore head now and it's getting worse by the minute. And don't tell me to talk to DiNozzo because I've done nothing but."

Lowering his glass, the older man eyed his friend with keen eyes.

"And?"

"And nothing. I don't like it one little bit, but what I'm left with is one...hell, I don't even know myself. One minute he's a cocky, over-confident son of a b**** who considers himself so damned superior that he feels he can just waltz in and take down a drug lord and then, when the shit hits the fan, believes that the next best thing for him to do is quit. And then there are those moments when he's so torn up with insecurity that I..." Gibbs scrubbed a tired hand over his troubled features, then hardened his jaw. "Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks he can just quit because...What?...What?"

As Gibbs watched the confusion change to disbelief in Ducky's pale eyes, his words trailed off.

"Jethro, surely you don't believe Anthony chose to go off just to satisfy his own egotistical demands?"

"What the hell else am I to think, Ducky?" And knocking back the rest of his drink Gibbs reached for the bottle, his expression all too clearly showing his disaffection with his own logic.

"But surely after talking you understood why he did what he did."

Pinning him with a glacial glare, the former marine growled, "What the hell am I supposed to have understood?"

"Jethro, young Anthony took the course of action he did because that is what he thought you would have done."

"He what?" Gibbs had already leapt to his feet as he growled out his question, clearly as irritated as all hell. "And you know this how?"

The M.E. smiled almost apologetically for what he was about to say. "Oh come now, Jethro. You don't mean to tell me that you haven't realised your senior field agent has you up on the highest hero pedestal there is."

As Ducky's words penetrated Gibbs' mind he was suddenly looming over the older man, snarling threateningly, "You mean to tell me he--." Snapping off the rest of his words he turned, striding towards Tony's bedroom, his face flat as he growled, "I'll give him a hero's pedestal when I get my hands on him!"

And now, at long last, he knew what had been eating away at the injured man, understood the look he hadn't been able to read until now. It was disappointment; bitter disappointment that Gibbs had failed to endorse DiNozzo's action; disappointment that Gibbs hadn't patted him on the back with a 'Good job,' to finish it off perfectly, and finally, the worst of all, aching disappointment with himself for being naive enough to have hoped for such a clichéd ending.

"Jethro!"

Ducky's warning went unheeded as Gibbs thrust open the door and Ducky had to admit he was a little confused by the silence that ensued until Gibbs returned, marching to the door and grabbing his coat.

"He's gone damned walkabout again."

----------

_To be continued_


	7. Chapter 7

_**This was to have been the conclusion, but I find it won't end as swiftly as I had intended. Therefore, this has to be broken into two sections. Many, many apologies. I will try very hard to get the second section posted asap.**_

**Part 7**

Under he went before flailing back to the surface. He floundered in black confusion, blinded by the water and rain, spluttering as he tried to keep his head above water and not take in copious amounts of the stuff. And for a wild, panic-stricken moment he was completely without point of direction, treading water whilst turning, thrashing three hundred and sixty degrees once, twice, three times until suddenly, his blinking eyes made out a darker shadow in all the blackness and he stilled his wild movements. He now knew which way was the bank.

Too far from the cabin to have benefited from any light that may have been cast towards the inky water, he had to make do with the night light which was made up of different shades of black. But now more convinced of his directions, he steadied his frantic breathing as he kicked out, though well aware his limbs were slowing down from the frosty pull of the water on his sodden clothes and the incessant fall of the rain.

Ignoring the pain of his still tender wound, he reached out for the bank, scrambling for a muddy purchase. Twice he fell back, swallowing his curses as he trod water, his exhausted limbs screaming from this enforced strain. Gasping loudly now from the exertion, he began to wonder if he would ever be able to get out of the lake alive for it was as if it was holding him back, pulling him in when he fought tooth and nail to get a firm grasp of the sodden soil, which infuriatingly crumbled under the pressure.

Logic dictated he needed to swim back towards the direction of the cabin and find an easier place to climb out, but the effort was fast proving too much. He wasn't in any way fit for doing something as active as swimming in icy lake water, but as he gasped and wheezed, ready to make one last effort, he heard his name called above the driving rain.

He yelled hoarsely, frustratingly aware that his weak voice barely carried over the sounds of the elements, but summoning his depleted energy, he cried out again. And suddenly, with heart-stopping relief, he felt the reassuring grasp on his shoulders as he was hauled inch by painful inch from the clutches of the jealous lake.

Sobbing for breath, he didn't need to see Gibbs to know that it was him as a steady litany of comforting words reached his freezing ears, accompanying his rescue from the water.

Catching at breath that was proving difficult to take in, on making it to solid ground, Tony longed to be put down and allowed to rest for just one brief, breath-catching moment, to lie in the enveloping mud and give his heaving lungs some respite, but such pleasure was to be denied him.

His teeth were chattering violently as he felt one arm grasped and pulled up and though he tried to speak, still his brain seemed incapable of forming any coherent words. Worse still, it appeared his legs were also unable to do the simple task of walking. Thus after a particularly blistering series of curses made it to warm his ears, failing miserably in their intent to encourage movement, he felt himself upended, thrown like a sack of potatoes over the former marine's shoulder where he hung, a limp frozen mass of misery.

He tried demanding to be put down, to squirm away, until one of the hands steadying him, landed flat and solid on his wet backside accompanied by a sharp, furious "Hey, quit that!"

He stilled, stifling his miserable protests.

The next moments simply coalesced into a barrage of movement which though carried out on him, were without any of his input as Ducky and Gibbs worked in perfect dual unison. It was as if he had been denied any form of self-determination as he was carried back to the cabin, stripped of his sodden, mud-covered clothes and put in a warm bath. And even when he attempted to insist that he could take care of things from now on, he might as well have been invisible for all the notice the two older men took of him. And with little regard for his dignity he was ushered out of the bath, wrapped in towels and dried before being placed back in his bed to be cocooned beneath extra comforters.

Once everything had slowed, Tony was able to lift his tired gaze and look into two pairs of blue eyes, both of which were looking distinctly unhappy though the fear in them, Tony could see, had definitely gone.

Yet before he could even attempt to explain himself, the M.E. had murmured solicitously, "Get some sleep, my boy; that's what you need right now."

And even though he didn't want to comply, wanted to try and explain what had happened, wanted to make that look - which promised him something he'd rather not dwell on - disappear from Gibbs' eyes, his body had its own demands and the pull of healing sleep would not be denied.

----------

Sometime later, he became vaguely aware of his temperature and blood pressure being taken while he was half asleep; he complained at the disturbance and slept again. Later still, as he coughed enough to half rouse him from sleep, he'd felt himself supported as his lungs were listened to with great care. Some sort of medicine had been coaxed down his sore throat, but yet again he'd slipped back into slumber which was the only thing his aching body demanded now.

As Ducky stepped back, he gave a satisfied nod to his friend sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

"He's not exactly out of the woods yet, but he's getting there." And observing the weariness in the other man's face, he suggested gently, "Why don't you go and get some rest and let me sit with young Anthony."

Not taking his eyes of the sleeping form, Gibbs gave a negligible shake of his head and knowing it would be futile to even attempt coercion, Ducky drew a chair up, feeling the need to keep this friend of his company.

There was no doubt in the M.E.'s mind that Gibbs would have preferred simply to sit in peace and quiet, but there was still an issue he felt needed touching on and now seemed as good as any to raise it.

"There's something about our injured Anthony, when he's sleeping, that encourages one to watch over him, don't you think? Possibly it is that contrast between his brash superficial image, which he has the predisposition to promote, and the simple innocence here that belies that portrayal." Ducky didn't need to look at Gibbs to know he was listening; listening carefully. "When he came to NCIS, no matter that he was already an excellent investigator, there was a wildness in him that bordered on the reckless. The fact that he had been in the habit of constantly moving jobs also added to his impulsive nature. But you wrought a change in him, not through force of will, but simply by awakening in him an overriding desire to please you. You're the supportive father-figure he never had and in you he has been given the steady discipline that may have been lacking for much of his formative years."

Snorting softly, Gibbs raised pained eyes and murmured sardonically, "Yea, and look where that's got him."

Shaking his head to show his disagreement, Ducky continued, "Oh come now, Jethro, like most of humanity, perfection cannot always be maintained; there is a falling by the wayside and our young man is finding this particular fall from grace a difficult thing to bear. He believes he has done something so deplorable that he has lost your steadfast support as revealed by his foolish action in going to the lake."

"Just what the hell did he think he could achieve going out in the middle of a storm, for God's sake, Ducky?"

"We may never find that out, but what we may attain is the return of a lost sheep to the fold if we shepherd with care."

----------

When he finally awoke to be able to stay awake, it was still dark and all he was capable of was turning to find a more comfortable position before...his eyes shot open. In the dark he could sense the presence of someone, but as he moved his head from side to side on the pillow no one was there. He screwed his eyes semi-closed to peer into the darker shadows, holding his breath.

He didn't think he was afraid of the dark, not now anyway, but...

"Ducky?"

For a moment he actually thought he was beginning to imagine things. Had he hit his head when he fell in the lake? It took effort, but he brought up a hand to feel his skull, but no sharp pain made its presence felt so that was out. And just when he was beginning to believe that his imagination had been playing tricks on him, the faint scraping of a body against a chair was heard again.

Tony froze, holding his breath, until an irritating tickle began to play at the back of his throat. Swallowing only went so far and then he was sitting up, coughing fit to bring up a lung, tears squeezing through tightly closed eyelids as he struggled to ride through the spasm. He was vaguely aware of a glass being brought to his lips and then a firm hand he knew all too well pulled him forward onto an equally hard shoulder, as a soothing hand massaged circles over his back, anchoring his thoughts as he was encouraged to breath slowly and deeply. And little by painstaking little, the tension in his airways eased and he was able to take in much needed oxygen to fight off the black dots that had been threatening the edges of his vision.

More aware now, he heard the door to his room being opened and another figure approached. Pale light from the hallway allowed Tony to watch Ducky, dressed incongruously in striped pyjamas, approach. Suddenly, embarrassingly conscious of his proximity to Gibbs, he drew away from the solid support and allowed the M.E. to carry out his usual predictable checks. Meanwhile it seemed Gibbs had retreated back to his seat in the shadows.

"How am I doing, Ducky?" he croaked softly, swiping at the trail of tears on his cheeks and hoping that they hadn't been spotted by the man in the corner.

The M.E. gave him a long, appraising look, shaking his head as if about to deliver some unwanted news.

"Well, to say you've been dunked in a freezing cold lake on top of all your other injuries, surprisingly well, my boy. There's a little congestion, which is only to be expected, but nothing to worry about as long," and now Tony could feel the hardening of the Scot's gaze, "as you follow my instructions to the letter."

A soft snort could be heard from the shadows, and Tony tried hard to conceal his wince.

"You have something you wish to add on this subject, Jethro?"

Rising from his seat, the grey-haired team leader came into the subdued light and looked down on Tony. The fact that he was wearing sweats didn't detract from his 'kick ass' persona one little bit.

"Oh yea, but I think what I have to say, DiNozzo here would prefer to hear in private."

Tony's eyes widened as the flush of hot colour rose to his cheeks.

"Gibbs, I..."

The classic glare silenced him and his gaze slid away.

Slowly, with infinite care, Ducky began to put his equipment away allowing a certain calmness to be restored though he was fully aware of his patient's trepidation.

"I think your little talk could wait, don't you, Jethro? After all, it is still the early hours of the morning."

"I can't say I agree with you on that one, Ducky. Who knows where DiNozzo will be come the morning."

Tony's squirming just seemed to increase with every acerbic word Gibbs spoke.

"I don't think you need worry about the poor boy leaving his bed," the M.E. remonstrated amicably.

"We're talking DiNozzo here, but no, you're right, Ducky, not if I cuff him, he won't."

As Tony shuffled in his bed ready to obviously protest, Ducky held up an appeasing hand.

"That won't be necessary, will it, Anthony? You will give your word that you won't leave that bed until I tell you?"

Ignoring the question, Tony's eyes grew even wider as he struggled to find his voice, "I know I messed up big time and I know I've got plenty coming to me for it all, but I'm done with the cuffs."

Leaning forward, Gibbs' flat voice snapped, "You're done when I say so."

It was the M.E.s turn to object to Gibbs' perception of the situation.

"Now look here, Jethro, no one is--."

"It's okay, Ducky. I've got it covered. I think DiNozzo is awake enough to listen to what I've got to say. Go on back to your bed; I'll call you if he needs you."

If he'd got the faintest hint that Tony didn't want him to leave, he would have put up more resistance to his friend's request, but as it was, his patient was sitting, arms folded in the classic 'I'm a big boy and I can take whatever it is you've got to throw at me' pose.

Shaking his head at the naivety of the young, he took his bag, giving Gibbs a look that conveyed more than the ex-gunny was willing to acknowledge. And sighing loudly, he left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as much for his own peace of mind as for the light it allowed the others.

"Gibbs, I--."

"I don't recall asking for your input, DiNozzo." The words were softly spoken yet a wealth of menace hung in the air.

Tony clamped his mouth shut and waited.

Rubbing a hand furiously through his iron-grey hair, Gibbs pinned his agent with a look that would have had the most seasoned marine wriggling in discomfort. Tony was no exception.

"So tell me, DiNozzo, just what do you think I should do?"

Having dropped his eyes, Tony's head shot up to meet the cool, brittle gaze. Couldn't the guy make up his mind? One second he wasn't allowed to speak, the next...

Knowing Gibbs, this had to be a trap that was being set for him, but right now he was too exhausted to care. He just wanted this period of limbo to be over and done with. If he was to face an ignominious exit from the Agency then he'd prefer it to happen sooner rather than later. He'd never been one for procrastination. Be it his father's wrath or a principal's punishment - if he had to face it, he'd got on with it. He wasn't going to do an about face now.

Plastering a false grin on his face, he strove for perfect DiNozzo flippancy, just like old times.

"Oh, I don't know Gibbs. I suppose a swift kick up the backside, enough to get me out of the Agency, might just do it. No doubt that's what the Director's got planned for me. I doubt she has any other choice?"

Refusing to reveal anything in his dark blue eyes, Gibbs' kept his face completely impassive as he faced Tony off, as confused as ever by his desire to hand out some short, sharp punishment while another side of him wanted nothing more than to pull him into a bear hug.

"Oh, I reckon she has something particularly inventive waiting for your return, DiNozzo, but right now she's the least of your worries."

"I figured as much." The younger man swallowed convulsively, the mask lowered for an instant to reveal his features drawn and pale.

And in that instant of quiet acceptance, the former marine loomed over him and stabbed a finger in his chest growling, "You ever do something as insanely stupid as this ever again, DiNozzo and injured or not, I will personally kick your sorry ass round every floor and every department in the Agency. Your name will be synonymous with all that is hare-brained and dim-witted. Not only that, I'll make sure that no other law enforcement agency in the entire country will touch you with a barge pole. Do I make myself clear?"

Struggling to take in all that was being said and more importantly what was not being said, Tony kept his gaze fixed on Gibbs, hardly daring to breathe. He could feel the heavy, hammer-like thud of his heart against his breastbone and wondered if the other man could hear it too.

"Did some of that water get in your ears and affect your hearing?"

Shaking his head, because a lump had suddenly made its way into Tony's throat making speech all but impossible, he swallowed hard until he was able to find his voice.

"I appreciate what you're saying, Gibbs," he murmured, throwing the older man a sheepish look before his eyes slid away, "but I think this time the situation has been taken out of everyone's hands, even yours. No way can the Director be seen to put up with a rogue agent. It goes against the whole ethos of the Agency; she can't be seen to condone any kind of action that comes even close to what I did. So even if she was willing to be swayed by you...well, she just can't. Not that I think you can't do it, it's just that well...I don't want you to do it. There's no need for you to get tarred by the same feathers and anyway, I'm not afraid to take my punishment."

Tony felt the inevitability of the situation hit him hard and his shoulders slumped disconsolately. Hanging his head he missed the evil light shining in Gibbs' eyes, but not the sharp swat to his head.

"Ouch!"

"Are you giving up on me, DiNozzo?"

Rubbing his head to help rid the stinging pain, Tony's reluctance was all too obvious. But when he saw another determined swat heading his way, he flinched away, crying out, "No, no, I'm not giving up! I'm just trying to be realistic."

A firm finger poked him in the shoulder. "Leave the realism to me. You got that?"

The determination in the blue eyes told Tony all he needed to know and nodding his head, he stated with a little more resolve, "Yea, I've got it, Boss."

And for just an instant, Tony saw Gibbs freeze. And suddenly, totally without warning, the man reached towards him, pulling him into an unexpectedly brief bear hug which was over before it had begun and yet it left the younger man quivering with unspent emotion, blinking back the sting of unshed tears.

Gibbs was almost out of the door before he flung back over his shoulder, "Oh and DiNozzo, I catch you out of that bed before I say so and you'll be wishing Jenny was kicking you out."

That Gibbs was willing to go the whole mile with him meant more than Tony could ever express and yet, why should he be surprised? Hadn't Gibbs always been there for him? It was a taken fact, like the sun rising in the east and chocolate melting on your tongue, but it still didn't mean that Tony was going to let him walk that mile.

----------

(Later that day)

"Ever done any fishing, DiNozzo?"

Intent on savouring the last few mouthfuls of his own weak coffee - the first allowed since his injury - Tony's guard was lowered as he automatically answered, "Nah. My father used to take his clients deep sea fishing, but I was never allowed to go. He'd be doing some big wheeler dealing and thought I'd get in the way of business...What about you?"

"My father introduced me to the finer points of the sport. He'd sometimes take me off for a weekend; we'd camp out and do the whole survival thing."

His attention fixed on the man who so rarely revealed anything about his past personal life, Tony's eyes crinkled with pleasure.

"You must have had a good time, huh - father/son bonding?"

And realising that the contrast in fathers was more than likely to raise painful memories, Gibbs swiftly stood, saying, "Go get dressed. Ducky showed me some of his tackle before he left. We're going to do our own fishing."

"You mean it? I can get up?" And in the next breath, "But I don't know how to...," The penetrating glare he received silenced his last comment, replaced by a smooth, familiar,"...on it Boss."

By the time Tony had thrown on some clothes, Gibbs had set up two fold- up chairs by the water's edge, with the necessary equipment and rods ready for use.

Wide eyed, Tony stared at the scene and grinned.

"Wow, this reminds me of the movie with Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon--."

"Do you want to learn how to fish?"

"Sure!"

"Then sit down, shut up and take hold of the damned rod. And I'm only going to tell you this once. Stay out of the lake!"

"On it, Boss."

Hours later, completely relaxed, the euphoria of a fish caught and then returned to the lake, Tony was on a high, already exaggerating the size of his catch. Turning his eyes on the tranquil water, he suddenly stilled and murmured, "I never meant to lie to you."

Driven by the need to make things as right as they would ever be, he made the confession in a hushed voice, determined to try and fix that which he thought had been broken.

Keeping his eyes on his brightly coloured float bobbing gently up and down, Gibbs waited, hoping there would be more. He wasn't disappointed.

"I...I wanted to tell you, Boss. I knew it was crazy to go in there without you, but...in the end, I couldn't leave Jimmy to go it alone. And no matter what you say, I know you wouldn't have either if you'd been in my shoes. And don't get me wrong, don't think I don't appreciate what you intend doing for me in going to the Director, but...I don't want you to do it. I don't want you to go begging, to be beholden to her. I can look after myself. Always have, always will."

Gibbs hands holding his rod, tightened visibly, the knuckles turning white with the tension, but that was the only clue visible in revealing his feelings.

"Well, that's where you're wrong, DiNozzo."

And turning, Gibbs fixed Tony with a flat stare that literally had the man squirming in discomfort as he continued, "I'm not asking for your permission to go and put your case forward. Suck it up, and get a taste of what it's like when I decide to go off and do my own thing."

Stiffening, Tony growled, "This is my business, Gibbs."

As Gibbs carefully put down his rod, the older agent fixed steel blue eyes on the man beside him.

"That's where you're wrong again, DiNozzo."

And in the end Tony had grudgingly accepted that he could do nothing to dissuade Gibbs from doing what he wanted. It was up to Tony, therefore, to do what needed to be done before Gibbs put his own head on the block.

----------

_Second part of the conclusion to follow__._


	8. Chapter 8

_Well this is it, at long last. Profuse apologies for the delay. It's been a great journey and I've particularly enjoyed making the acquaintance of so many of you faithful reviewers. What absolute stars you are!!!_

**Conclusion, Section II**

The remaining days at the cabin were passed amicably as long as Tony continued to remain silent about Gibbs' intentions. And under the older man's watchful gaze he began to lose the gaunt, harrowing look that had plagued him since going to Philly. Good food combined with plenty of rest saw Tony begin to put on a little of the lost weight and he started to feel a little stronger day by day.

By the end of the week, as he stepped off the deck one final time to get in Gibbs' car, he looked back at the log cabin with a certain amount of wistfulness and wondered whether he would ever again feel the contentment and security he had experienced these past days.

----------

"Touch that one more time, DiNozzo and I won't be responsible for my actions."

The hand that had been reaching out to try another radio station froze midway.

"Aw, cmon, Boss, there's got to be something better than...what is this anyway?" he whined. But getting the look, he chewed on his bottom lip and lowered his hand to start fiddling with his seat's upright position. "I don't seem to be able to get this..."

The silent glower he received spoke volumes.

"Leaving it all as it was, Boss."

And folding his hands theatrically, he chose to look out of the passenger's side window and make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Two of those looks in as many minutes didn't bode well for his future. Maybe by sitting quietly, he reasoned, he might just live to see the end of this journey.

----------

"Where are we going?"

Sounding definitely agitated, Tony twisted his head round to look back the way they had come, his eyes clouded with dismay.

"Er...I think you might have missed my exit, Boss, 'cos we just passed it. I mean, I don't think you forgot because you don't forget anything and I'd never suggest that your age might have something to do with--

A put upon sigh accompanied the words, "We're going to my place."

"Your place?"

"You got a problem with that, DiNozzo?"

"No, no, nothing like that...It's just that...well, it's kind of been a long time since I was home and--."

"It won't matter if it's a bit longer, then, will it?"

Tony knew enough about rhetorical questions to understand this was definitely one of them. Gibbs was not asking for his input on this decision. It had been made. It was unilateral. Which was going to make it very difficult for Tony to get to the Director before Gibbs got there first.

"I...er...I don't want to appear ungrateful, Gibbs--."

"Than don't!"

"I really need to spend some time in my own place."

"Why?"

"It's my...my...," he cast his mind around frantically for any idea that might be half way acceptable to the shrewd agent. "...my cable TV; I've really missed it, Boss and I don't think I could cope with missing another night without it."

"Cope."

----------

By the time he arrived at Gibbs' place he was sulking. He couldn't help it.

But it was water off a duck's back as far as the ex-gunny was concerned. He all but ignored his sullen agent as he ushered him inside and installed him on the sofa, handing him the remote and switching on his TV.

Glowering at the 'box' - because it was wasted effort glowering at Gibbs, not to mention detrimental to his health - Tony watched an old movie with Cary Grant, which he would normally have been fully engrossed in, but which now was only a backdrop for his own frenetic brain activity.

That he hadn't been taken back to his own apartment had thrown a gigantic spanner into his plans and now, feeling yet again a prisoner denied his own freewill, his frustration at his strategy being thrown into disarray had made him short and irritable.

And so when Gibbs had appeared with a tray holding his lunch of soup and roll together with a glass of milk, he had petulantly put it to the side and adopted the pose of being totally absorbed in what he was watching.

Studying him, Gibbs couldn't fail to see the man was simmering and decided that ignoring it might prove ill advised.

"I took the trouble to make it; you can at least make the effort to eat it."

He watched Tony close his eyes as if giving up a silent prayer.

"Care to say out loud what you're thinking, DiNozzo?"

Turning his head, the convalescent was tempted, so very sorely tempted to speak his mind, but knowing it was pointless, he said flatly, "I'm just not all that hungry."

"In that case, you can go take a nap." He decided he'd better ignore the appalled look as he continued, "I'm going to call in to headquarters; there are a couple of things I need to do and--."

It was as if a magic key had been turned and a different person appeared. Tony sat up, eyes sparkling, all moodiness vanishing as he interrupted, "I'm coming too!"

Trying hard to mask his smile, Gibbs countered with, "If you don't eat then Ducky's not going to be all that--."

"I'm eating, I'm eating!" And with much blatant enthusiasm, Tony began to consume the food with gusto, smacking his lips together to add to his stellar performance until every drop had gone. "It's delicious, Boss. The best canned chicken soup I've ever tasted. Really. See?"

"Why is that?"

"We-ell, it must be the number of seconds you took to heat it up. Or maybe it's the way you stirred the stuff after heating it. There again, it could simply be that you are an expert at choosing canned chicken soup."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, feeling his fingers itching to make contact with one smart-ass agent.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

"I...er...I want to see the guys and put their minds at rest that I survived."

"What, you mean that you survived a week with me?"

Grinning manically, Tony was about to start some long-winded explanation, but Gibbs chose to halt it with a raised hand.

Narrowing his eyes, the former marine watched the younger man silently. It probably wasn't such a bad idea; it would mean Ducky could give him a check-up and maybe it would do him good to see the rest of his team, to understand that life was in many ways back to normal. It might just be the incentive needed to get him back on track. It would, he acknowledged self-interestedly, allow him more time to get his own stuff done, because no matter that he could keep Ziva and McGee's enquiries about Tony to a minimum, there'd be no stopping Abby interrogating him for hours if he went in without his senior field agent. Smiling at the thought of the greeting Tony had in store, he nodded his head.

"Save it. We're leaving now."

----------

As he made to open the passenger door, Gibbs' hand reached over, pulling the door closed.

Frowning, Tony turned to Gibbs, clearly nervous.

"Have you got something you want to say, DiNozzo?"

Tony was no fool and understood Gibbs had picked up on his apprehension, but shrugging casually, he played the game as he'd planned it.

"It's been a long time, Boss. I figure there are going to be some pretty awkward questions thrown at me."

"Not today there aren't."

His expression softening, Tony murmured, "You've always got my six, haven't you Boss?"

"Always try to, other than when you go running off on some wild escapade." And bringing the conversation back to the present, Gibbs stated gruffly, "You've got half an hour. No more. And I'd advise you not to wait too long before you go see Abby, that is if you want to live to see another day."

----------

When the opportunity presented itself and Gibbs was called away from his desk, Tony excused himself to his colleagues explaining that he ought to just pop his head round the Director's door. Surprised, but neither willing to state their reservations, McGee and Ziva had simply watched as Tony ascended the steps. Feeling their eyes on him, he had given them a mock salute, winking to relay his ease. They weren't fooled and neither, it seemed, was Gibbs. Returning to his desk, he was just in time to look up and catch Tony approaching the Director's office.

"DiNozzo!"

He would have had to have been deaf to have failed to hear that harsh cry.

It was almost as if Gibbs could see the workings of Tony's brain - to stop or not to stop - and just as he felt sure the man was going to ignore him, Tony faltered and came to a standstill.

Meeting Gibbs' blistering glare, Tony simply shrugged apologetically and, as if aware of Gibbs' intentions to take the steps two at a time, moved purposely forward, having calculated the time it would take him to get to the director's door almost to the second.

Bestowing a dazzling smile on the director's personal assistant, Tony walked smoothly past her desk and entered the office before Cynthia had the wits to realise he didn't have an appointment. And without pausing in his entrance, Tony turned and flicked on the lock before turning back to face the somewhat surprised director who was sitting at her desk studying some papers.

"Er...sorry about that Director, but it's kind of necessary."

And true to his word, the next second the door received a violent rattle that had Jenny Sheppard raising one eyebrow questioningly. But before addressing her visitor, she reached over, depressed the intercom button and said calmly, "Everything's fine, Cynthia." Then turning back to Tony, she added, "It's good to see you up and about, Agent DiNozzo. You're certainly looking a lot better than when I last saw you." And taking off her reading spectacles, she made a careful show of observing him from head to toe.

Tony frowned, having no recollection of the director visiting him in hospital. Still, he couldn't dwell on the discomforting thought of her seeing him in such a vulnerable position; he had a far more important objective.

And acting as if it was the most normal occurrence for him to come barging into her office and then locking the door, she continued in a slightly firmer tone of voice, "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

A further harsh rattling of the door handle caused Tony to look behind him nervously. He was pretty sure it was a solid piece of timber. Still...

Deciding he needed a little encouragement to state his case, Jenny again depressed the intercom button.

"Cynthia," she said sweetly, "would you be kind enough to inform Agent Gibbs that I will not hesitate to have him removed if he should continue to make a nuisance of himself."

Aware that her voice would have carried quite clearly to its intended recipient, she was neither surprised nor disturbed when a final solid kick was delivered to her door. The same could not be said for her visitor who paled considerably. However, there was no further distraction, affording Tony the opportunity to speak.

Clearing his throat, and lifting his chin high, he stated, "I think you know why I'm here."

"I'm not a mind reader, Agent DiNozzo." And spreading her hands wide, Jenny indicated that he should continue.

"I know what I've done; I'm not expecting any favours and I don't need Gibbs to come begging to you for my job."

Yet again Jenny's left eyebrow went up, only higher.

"Tell me this, Agent DiNozzo, have you ever known Gibbs to beg?"

Not expecting the retort, Tony was slightly thrown. "No, but--."

"And you can take it from me, he never will!" And now her eyes bore into Tony uncomfortably as she stated crisply, "You must have a very high opinion of yourself if you think--."

Appalled at her line of thinking, Tony shook his head, interrupting, "No, I...I just want you to know I don't need--."

"Oh, I have an idea that Special Agent Gibbs knows exactly what you need, Agent DiNozzo."

Stiffening at her mocking tone, Tony willed his colour to return to normal as he prepared to ask that which he dreaded. But before he could say anything else, the director put her hands on a file, extracted two papers and held them out to him.

As he instinctively accepted them and began to read their contents, Jenny watched as the warm colour faded to leave his face pale and unhealthy.

Without thinking, he finished reading and practically threw them back, his green eyes in turmoil as he attempted to settle on anything other than meet her calm gaze.

Turning, he began to pace in front of the large oak desk which Jenny sat behind, unable to comprehend just what he had read.

Looking at his distraught face, Jenny decided that it would be kinder to put him out of his misery. After all, he still had Gibbs to deal with. And talking of the devil... she walked over to her door, unlocked and opened it.

"Agent Gibbs," she smiled sweetly as if he hadn't been trying to kick her door in a few moments earlier, "I was just going to call for you. How convenient that you are here," she declared facetiously. And ushering him in, she said, "I thought I might save myself repeating the news I have been asked to convey to you and Agent DiNozzo by SecNav."

She waited for Gibbs to stand beside his senior field agent and didn't miss the dark scowl thrown his way, one that promised plenty, though the younger agent did his best to stare grimly ahead, determined to conduct himself in an exemplary manner.

"Apparently gentlemen, SecNav has been apprised of a joint Agency/police action which brought down a major drug dealer. He's delighted that the customary show of one-upmanship between the two organisations was absent from these proceedings and asked me to convey his congratulations for a job well done."

Stunned was the nearest Jenny could come to describing Tony's expression, but now was not the time to show any form of softness. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Agent DiNozzo, you know; Agent Gibbs knows and I sure as hell know that your sorry hide should be fried so crisp even the crows would turn their beaks up at it! But your guardian angel must have been working overtime because, far from having me throw the book at you, I've been given the authority to reward you in any way that I see fit."

"Director, permission to--."

Two voices snapped in unison, "Denied!"

Smiling in a most unpleasant way, Jenny came toe to toe with Tony, invading his personal space. There were to be no half measures.

"So you are going to learn what your 'reward' is, Agent DiNozzo. You will be required to reread every Standing Order set down by this Agency from the moment of its conception. Having done that, you will sit every exam up to your current position as senior field agent. That will include firearms and agent safety training once you have been declared fit for duty. Should you fail any of these exams your ranking will reflect that, as will your pay. Simultaneously, you will also be required to shadow the clerical and janitorial staff in their duties over a period of time I have yet to decide on and take an overall inventory of all the supplies likely to be required by said departments over a three month period. You are prohibited from all field duty operations even after being given a certificate of fitness until I have reviewed your progress in the areas mentioned."

Then turning to her former team leader, she stated, "I will also expect you, Agent Gibbs, as Agent DiNozzo's immediate superior, to come up with some suitable form of 'reward' as well. Do I make myself clear, Agent Gibbs?"

"Loud and clear, Director."

"Very well then, you may go Agent DiNozzo. Agent Gibbs, a word, please."

It had to be said that two pairs of satisfied eyes watched as Tony slunk from the director's room, closing the door behind him.

As Jenny retook her seat she picked up the two letters Tony had flung back on her desk.

"You do know he was trying to protect you when he came to me?"

Gibbs just met her gaze, his features inscrutable.

"Interesting that SecNav should get these."

As she'd expected, Gibbs remained characteristically close mouthed.

"I don't suppose you would happen to know why Philly's Chief of Police and the widow of Officer Adams would write letters of outstanding recommendation for Agent DiNozzo, would you?"

"Haven't a clue, Jen."

She watched him hawk-like, the hint of a secret smile playing on her lips.

"No, I don't suppose you would." And suddenly getting back down to business, she demanded, "Can I rely on you to ensure this wayward action will not be repeated."

"You have my word."

She watched him over the top of her glasses and almost allowed herself to indulge in memories that, for the most part, she tried hard to keep tucked away for more private moments.

"You know, a discerning man once told me that fear and love are the most potent combination there can ever be. When the first is assuaged what's left is a terrible anger."

"He must have been a pretty sharp guy, I reckon."

Eyes warm with affection, Jenny smiled, a silent message passing between them.

"But maybe, just maybe, over time, that terrible anger morphs into something else; something more protective, more caring."

The wry smile Gibbs gave her had her shaking her head, not sure whether it was from admiration or exasperation.

"And you're sure you haven't had any contact with the two people who wrote those commendations?"

"Are you getting hard of hearing now, Jen?"

She knew he wouldn't lie to her, but still, she'd learned from the best that there just wasn't such a thing as a coincidence.

"It came close, Jethro, too close."

"I know."

----------

Gibbs had known where he'd go to lick his wounds and he followed him to Abby's the moment he left the director's office.

"You. Ducky. Now!"

"Aw cmon Gibbs, he's only just got here!" Abby whined, clinging on to Tony's arm as if for dear life. "Don't be a grouchy papa bear; after all, you've had him for days and days."

Ignoring his favourite scientist for the moment, Gibbs eyeballed his agent and snapped, "Is there anything in those orders you failed to understand, DiNozzo?"

Tony knew better than to answer, but before he could slope off, Abby couldn't resist giving him one extra big hug to send him on his way.

---------

"Ah, Jethro told me you'd be paying me a visit." Then noticing how downcast Tony was, the M.E. paused to consider the man more carefully as he approached his desk. "Er...let's have you straight on the table, dear boy. Might as well get the necessities out of the way."

Resignedly, Tony hitched himself on to the nearest table, undoing his shirt to allow Ducky easy access with his stethoscope.

Having listened to his back and chest, the medical doctor occupied himself with checking his blood pressure and pulse before taking a look at his bullet wound.

Finally, he stepped back, sighing with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Well, your sojourn by the lake has certainly done you a world of good though you're looking a little peaky at this very moment...Is everything alright?"

Face impassive, Tony strove to maintain the mask that hid a wealth of emotion as he felt Ducky's keen medical eye scrutinising his features.

"Nothing that a firing squad won't cure."

"Oh come now, Anthony, surely it can't be that bad."

"Wanna bet, Ducky?"

The telltale flinch told the M.E. all he needed to know and as Gibbs came to stand next to him, it was obvious that the younger man was doing everything in his power to evade facing his mentor's stony gaze.

"Oh dear, I was under the impression that you two had reached some understanding while you were away."

"That was before DiNozzo went on yet another solo assignment." And seeing his friend was looking perplexed, Gibbs explained further. "He's decided that he can do things better his way, his way alone. Doesn't need my input."

Gritting his teeth to prevent himself from blurting out his disagreement, Tony stayed silent, looking like a whipped puppy.

"And you're happy with that, Jethro?"

"Hell no, and DiNozzo's going to be just as unhappy until he learns the error of his ways."

It was Ducky's turn to wince as he muttered, "That doesn't sound very pleasant."

"Well that depends on just how DiNozzo is going to take it, Ducky...Is he all done here?"

The M.E. nodded, the curiosity clear in his pale eyes.

"Everything's fine?...Good. Let's go, DiNozzo."

Raising eyes filled with misery, Tony mumbled, "Where to?"

"Home." And seeing the glint of hope, he extinguished it without compunction. "My place. But first you need to collect those Standing Orders the director mentioned."

"Standing Orders?" Ducky was growing ever more confused, especially when he saw the look of utter dejection on Tony's face.

"Long story; I'll fill you in later...Let's go, DiNozzo, and let's get one thing straight, you're grounded into my care until you're cleared for duty. And you even think of taking off and I'll cuff you before you can blink."

And preceding Gibbs out of the morgue, all Tony could think was, 'I'm so totally screwed.'

----------

They'd been in the basement lightly sanding down the hull of the boat; the quiet rhythmical work was just the thing needed to work out the angst Gibbs knew was seething within his agent.

Quite early on in their working relationship, Gibbs had come to understand there was no compartment in which to put his senior field agent; likewise there was no set plan or theory that could explain the makeup of the man. Eager and impulsive were characteristics that could define part of him, but these qualities had, through time and effort, been tempered and his risk-taking was limited - until this last mess - to what was considered necessary in the job. That he was passionate in his work and in life could not be denied though for reason the older man could only speculate on, he chose to hide it well beneath a glossy veneer that most people who didn't work closely with him accepted at face value. He was a brave fighter, which was indisputable in Gibbs' mind, but he was also a victim of his own upbringing; it had laid scarred foundations which Gibbs was powerless to eradicate. But having thought long and hard, the ex-gunny had come to realise that he could still build on that which had gone before and add solidity.

The tenseness that had been with Gibbs since receiving that phone call, which now seemed so long ago telling him of Tony's injury, seemed to have settled and he was able to view his senior field agent's actions with his emotions firmly corralled.

Years before the ex-gunny had lost something so precious that he had thought he would never again experience that aching emotion, but the shock of seeing Tony so still and helpless in the ICU had stirred those long dormant feelings and though reluctant to accept it for what it was, Gibbs had to acknowledge that his feelings for Tony were far more than mere mentor and co-worker; something on a parr with father and son was still too painful for him to accept, but if he were truthful, what he felt was closer to the latter than the former.

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing? When are you going to get it into your head that some battles can't be won alone? And so help me, if you go all deep and silent on me, DiNozzo..."

Barely pausing in his work, Tony simply hung his head lower, unwilling to be drawn into any form of conversation with the hurt he was still feeling.

Exhaling in frustration, Gibbs threw down his sander and reached over for the bottle of bourbon that was on hand. Checking the mug was relatively clean, he seemed satisfied so poured an amount in before capping the bottle. On raising the mug to his lips, he suddenly found bleak, green eyes had locked on to his own and he stilled. Lowering his drink, he narrowed his eyes trying to come to a decision.

"If Ducky finds out...hell!" And having made up his mind, he poured a second, smaller shot into the other mug, handing it over with a stern warning to sip it.

The two drank in silence and, as if knowing that Tony was prepared to speak, Gibbs waited.

"I didn't deserve those two letters of recommendation."

"Didn't say you did, but obviously the people that sent them thought you did."

Glowering at the older man, unwilling to accept any platitude, Tony took a swallow of the alcohol, feeling it warm his insides.

As he stared into the depths of the amber liquid, he murmured, "I know you're pissed at me, but I'm not sorry for going to the director, even if in the end it wasn't necessary." Then raising his head and meeting Gibbs' gaze full on, he stated firmly, "But I am ready to admit that going to Philly alone wasn't my brightest hour. So I'll take my punishment and I won't complain." And seeing Gibbs' scepticism, he shrugged, "Well, not too much."

"You did hear everything the director threw at you, right, DiNozzo?"

The younger man couldn't quite hide his grimace. "I'm still waiting for what's coming from you."

Gibbs' eyes crinkled reading Tony's body language better than any words could convey.

"Your punishment is my disappointment."

The colour leeching from his face before he looked away was enough for Gibbs and reaching over, he took a firm grip of Tony's shoulder giving him a slight shake.

"Hey, enough! There's no changing the past, but what we can do is make sure the future is different. Are you going to work on that, DiNozzo, 'cos I know it isn't one quick, easy fix? Oh yea, you should know, I'll break your legs if you try something like that ever again."

And trying hard not to groan out loud, Tony muttered, "That's one hell of an incentive, Boss. Still, between you and the director I don't know if I can get through it all."

And raising his glass, Gibbs stated confidently, "You will, DiNozzo. Don't forget, I've got your six."

_The End_


End file.
